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ROMANCE 



HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL 


hVIAH 4 IbVM 

NEW Y^RK 

J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS 
65 FIFTH AVENUE 



Copyright, 1895, by 
HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. 
All Rights Reserved. 


TO MY WIFE. 


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CONTENTS 


BOOK I. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER I. 

The Heir of Tantallon 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Lord Tantallon States his Wishes .... 8 

CHAPTER III. 

Jack Tantallon is Piqued 18 

CHAPTER IV. 

Between the Lines 27 

CHAPTER V. 

Jack is Hard Hit 32 

CHAPTER VI. 

Mrs. Tom Forsyth 43 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Earl sends for his Lawyer . . . .49 

CHAPTER VIII. 

An Autocrat 56 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Tantallon Ball 60 

CHAPTER X. 

Contains a Proposal 67 

CHAPTER XI. 

Surprise 71 

CHAPTER XII. 

An Unhappy Nobleman 80 



iii 


iv 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK II, 

CHAPTER I. 

San Francisco 



PAGE 

. 89 

CHAPTER 11. 

A Relapse 




CHAPTER III. 

The Story of a Self-Contained Man 


• 

. 103 

CHAPTER IV. 

Jack Makes an Enemy 


• 

. 110 

CHAPTER V. 

Hard Scratch 


• 

. 120 

CHAPTER VI. 
Wheels within Wheels 


• 

. 128 

CHAPTER VII. 

Judge Ketchum Talks of his Family 


• 

. 134 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Vi ET Armis 




CHAPTER IX. 

Alarmed 



. 145 

CHAPTER X. 

The Biter Bit 


• 

. 149 

CHAPTER XI. 

Judge Ketchum meets Henry Britton 


• 

. 156 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Painted Canon .... 


• 

. 164 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Temptation 


• 

. 173 

CHAPTER XIV. 
The Romance of Judge Ketchum 


• 

. 182 

CHAPTER XV. 

Plans 



. 190 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A Pretty Cousin 


. 197 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Jack Goes Home 


. 205 

BOOK III. 

CHAPTER I. 

Alice Carrick-Fergus Temporizes . 


PAGE 

. 211 

CHAPTER II. 

Mother and Son 

• 

. 222 

CHAPTER HI. 
From Hades to Olympus 


. 228 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Old Love 


. 2?4 

CHAPTER V. 

Misgivings 


. 244 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Modern Machiavelli 


. 251 

CHAPTER VII. 
Alick Opens the Campaign 


. 257 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SUAVITER IN MODO .... 


. 265 

CHAPTER IX. 

Fortiter in re 


. 273 

CHAPTER X. 

The Day of Reckoning 


. 283 




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THE 


ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHDM. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE HEIR OF TANTALLON. 

*‘It is just as easy to know the right people 
as the wrong,” observed Mrs. Carrick-Fergus to 
her uncle, the Earl of Tantallon, “and with me 
once a friend always a friend.” 

The peer laughed sardonically. 

“ I notice, Sarah, that when the right people go 
wrong, and some of your dear friends do wander 
once and again from the path of virtue, you don’t 
hesitate to cut them dead.” 

“ Well really. Uncle Sholto, what other course 
of conduct would you suggest?” 

“ I should not venture to suggest anything to 
a woman of your intelligence and amiability. 
After all if a misguided person will go down hill 
I suppose the kindest thing you can do is to help 
them on their journey with a parting kick or two. 
It costs you not a penny and they get to the bot- 
tom all the sooner.” 


2 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Dear Uncle,” she replied in purring accents, 
“I hope that I always try to do my duty.” 

“Your duty to yourseK or your neighbor, 
Sarah ? ” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus opened her mouth to re- 
ply, but on second thoughts closed it again. To 
bandy words with her kinsman would result, as 
she well knew, in her utter discomfiture. 

These two persons were sitting opposite to 
each other in the great mullion- windowed library 
of Tantallon Castle. They had just finished 
luncheon, and the Earl was leisurely sipping a 
cup of Mocha, a beverage he especially affected 
ever since his physician had told him that it was 
poison to his constitution. The dim background 
of ancient tomes, dully gleaming here and there 
with the gold of the binder, threw into sharp re- 
lief his white-haired head with its still piercing 
eyes and commanding features. A frosty smile 
played round the corners of his clean-cut, mobile 
mouth. Evidently the conversation of his niece 
amused him if it did not instruct. He sat bolt 
upright in his high-backed Venetian chair after 
the fashion of a bygone generation. His neck 
was encircled with a black satin stock. His coat 
was dark blue, of antique cut. In a word he 
looked what he was — the picture of a gallant, 
courtly nobleman of the old school. 

His niece, widow of the late James Carrick- 
Fergus of that ilk, in the County of Galloway, 


THE HEIR OF TANTALLON. 


3 


possessed the family nose and temper. She was a 
clever woman and like most Scotch women, 
shrewd, where her interests were concerned. 
Moreover she was connected with half the best 
families in Scotland, and, since the death of her 
aunt, the Countess, had annually officiated as 
high priestess at the feast of St. Grouse. Tan- 
tallon was considered a charming place to stay at. 
The Castle, a magnificent time-worn pile, was 
celebrated for its romantic beauty from one end 
of the kingdom to the other. Fashionable folk 
nowadays rarely care for historical association and 
mediaeval architecture ; but they thoroughly ap- 
preciate good shooting, salmon-fishing, deer-stalk- 
ing and cheery people; to say nothing of ’74 
Perrier- Jo net and a “ cordon hleu.'"* 

These good things and many others were to be 
found at Tantallon ; and invitations there were 
prized accordingly. The Earl, full of years and 
honors, left the control of all arrangements to his 
niece. He stipulated for amusement, and had a 
weakness for pretty women. 

“ Who is coining to-day ? ” he asked. 

“ That godless nephew of yours — Jack Tan- 
tallon.” 

She glanced sharply at her uncle, but he made 
no comment, and she proceeded to check off her 
guests upon her plump fingers. 

“ Lord and Lady Biddulph, the Hobart Hopes, 
Lord Forth, Sir Gore Stanley and Mrs. Forsyth.” 


4 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ A heterogeneous collection,” said the Earl with 
a smile. 

“Uncle Sholto, you will insist on being 
amused, and the respectabilities are so dull. I 
am sure that the Biddulphs are charming.” 

“ They leaven the loaf I’ll admit,” said his lord- 
ship with a yawn. “ So Mrs. Tom Forsyth is ex- 
pected. Is she your friend or Alick’s ? ” 

Alick was the son of Mrs. Carrick-Fergus — her 
Benjamin. 

“ Lord Forth wouldn’t come unless I asked her. 
Personally I hate the woman. She’s eaten up 
with worldliness. T verily believe she would w^alk 
on burning plough-shares like Saint What’s-his- 
name, to get a bow from the Prince.” 

“ I dare say she would, poor little dear. I know 
other women who would keep her company. Gad 
— what a piquante face she has ! ” 

“ She is a very dangerous person.” 

“ You need not alarm yourself, Sarah. Alick 
has a wholesome awe of Forsyth’s horsewhip. He 
can be trusted to take care of that good-looking 
hide of his. And that reminds me that I have 
something to say to you. I have reason to believe 
he is making love to Marie. Remember, Sarah, 
that I have other views for her.” 

“ You intend to marry her to ” 

“ My godless nephew ? Just so.” 

“ Poor child. I suppose she has no objections? ” 
“She is my granddaughter,” said the peer. 


THE HEIR OF TANTALLON. 


5 


sternly, “ and she knows her duty. Jf she thwarts 
me she does so at her proper peril. I have spoken 
to Alick and he assured me that his interest in 
Marie was but cousinly. Of course I only take 
his word for what it is worth.” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus put a dainty piece of lawn 
to her eyes. 

“ You are so hard on Alick,” she whimpered. 
“ You sneer at him because he is respectful and 
dutiful to me, and you allow that good-for-nothing 
Jack Tantallon to contradict you flatly.” 

“I like to be contradicted,” said the Earl. “It 
is such a refreshing sensation. Why do you call 
my nephew, and heir ” — he added maliciously — 
“ good-for-nothing ? ” 

“ They tell dreadful stories of him in London. 
He drinks and gambles and . . .” 

“ Excuses can be made for him,” interrupted 
Lord Tantallon. “ He has not had Alick’s ad- 
vantages — his mother died when he was a child, 
and the atmosphere of this house is not especially 
suited to the moral upbringing of a hot-headed 
orphan. I have let Jack have his own way and I 
don’t think he has abused my confidence.” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus sniffed audibly. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, Sarah, if you have any- 
thing to say, say it. Don’t sniff.” 

“ I have nothing to say. Uncle Sholto. I re- 
peat : he drinks and gambles.” 

“Pooh . . . pooh. He has the characteristics 


6 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


of a gentleman. I have no doubt he is sowing a 
small crop of wild oats as— well ... as I did.” 

He smiled to himself at some reminiscence of 
past pleasures and took a pinch of snuff. He was 
what the French call gentilhomme de race.'' He 
held that his rank had its duties, and grave ones, 
amongst which might be reckoned truth, bravery 
and courtesy; but, like most men of his stamp, he 
believed little in aught else. He took the world 
as he found it and made the best of it. 

“He is seen in disreputable company,” pursued 
his niece. 

“ Xes absents ont tov jours tort. Wait till Jack 
arrives and then tax him with his shortcomings.” 

Suddenly the door opened and the scapegrace 
himself appeared. 

“ How do you do,” he said, genially. 

Lord Tantallon’s grim face relaxed as he wel- 
comed his nephew. 

“ I am quite well, John,” said Mrs. Carrick- 
Fergus, with bland dignity. “We were just 
speaking of you.” 

“ I felt my ears tingling as I turned the handle 
of the door,” remarked Jack. “ You were telling 
Uncle Sholto what a good boy I am . . . eh?” 

“ You are flippant,” said his cousin, preparing 
to leave the room. “ Most young men are flip- 
pant nowadays, but you, John, are unduly so. It 
is not an amiable trait.” 

With this she sailed out of the room. 


THE HEIR OF TANTALLON. 


7 


“ God bless her ! ” said the Earl, with character- 
istic inconsistency. “But, Jack, for the future 
treat her with more courtesy. She is an aggra- 
vating woman I’ll admit, but she is old enough to 
be your mother. And now, my dear boy, I want 
to talk seriously to you.” 

Jack nodded gravely. 

“ I am ready to listen, my lord.” 


CHAPTER 11. 


LORD TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 

Jack Tantallon was certainly no beauty man 
— hardly handsome, judging by the strictest can- 
ons of art. But he possessed a striking personal- 
ity. He was slightly above the middle lieight, 
built like a gladiator, and sun-burned as any 
Mexican. His eyes, set far apart, were the salient 
feature of his face, being peculiarly bright and 
penetrating, and in color a steely blue. His chin 
was square and prominent : his nose straight and 
thin of nostril : his mouth genially broad and fur- 
nished with strong even teeth : his brow square 
and high, closely thatched with crisp brown hair. 
A striking personality as has been said, and one 
that impressed strangers favorably. 

Select a comfortable chair, my boy,” said the 
Earl. “ I have much to say.” 

Jack ensconced himself upon a divan and crossed 
his legs. 

“ I hear sad tales of you, sir. Sad tales.” 

“ The devil is seldom as black as his female re- 
lations paint him,” retorted the young man. 

Well, well, boys will be boys ; but Jack, you 
were a promising lad. You were ambitious too, 
8 


LORD TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 


9 


and full of plans for the future. Bless me, you 
would talk by the hour of what you intended to 
do.” 

“ I talked a lot of quixotic folly, my lord, I 
make no doubt. I had my share of the illusions 
of youth.” 

Nothing of the kind. Jack. Your ideas were 
crude, but as raw material they were valuable. 
They shadowed forth possibilities, possibilities 
which you have not, as yet, realized. In. fact you 
have done nothing but amuse yourself.” 

“1 know it,” agreed the prodigal, humbly. “ I 
know it. Uncle, I have made a fool of myself.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so. Jack. If you 
fully appreciate the position, there is hope for you. 
I take it that you are tired of this aimless life 
. . . eh?” 

“Heartily tired.” 

“ Your position is, of course, an anomalous one. 
At my death you may find yourself a rich man. 
On the other hand you may find yourself a poor 
one — that absurd creature a penniless laird wi’ a 
lang pedigree. I do not exaggerate the case when 
1 say that you are dependent upon me.” 

“ Not entirely, my lord,” said Jack, with em- 
phasis. 

“ Pooh, pooh, you have, I presume, a few beg- 
garly hundreds of your own ; but I can leave you 
Tantallon, if I see fit. I repeat, you are depend- 
ent upon me.” 


10 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


He paused, but Jack only bowed in silence. 

“Unfortunately,” pursued the Earl, “Tantallon 
brings in next to nothing. I have other sources- 
of revenue ; but with this place to keep up, as it 
ought to be kept up, and without my private for- 
tune, you would be poorer than you are now.” 

“ I had no idea matters were as bad as that,” 
said Jack, gravely. 

“ There is universal depression ; and Scotland is 
nearly as bad as Ireland. My rent roll is cut down 
fifty per cent, while my expenses have increased in 
inverse ratio. My labor bill amounts to twice the 
sum it did ten years ago. In short,” concluded 
his lordship, “if I leave you Tantallon, as I am 
naturally inclined to do, you will find it a white 
elephant and a devilish expensive one to boot.” 

“ But the place is of great value.” 

“ I concede that from its historical associations 
it would probably fetch a large sum of ready 
money. Baron Kirsch, for instance, would buy it 
to-morrow. But I refuse to anticipate anything of 
the sort.” 

“ God forbid,” cried Jack. 

“You would never sell it? ” 

“ Sell Tantallon ! I would starve first.” 

“That is the proper sentiment. There is a 
dearth of such old-fashioned feeling nowadays. 
The inheritor of a great name has no business to 
consider himself. He should accept the penalties 
of his rank as well as its privileges, and subscribe 


LORD TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 


11 


cheerfully to its unwritten code. Tlie cradle of 
his race, above all else, should be sacred in his 
eyes. To sell a family estate so as to purchase a 
few years of inglorious luxury, is little short of 
sacrilege.” 

Jack wondered whither this diatribe was tend- 
ing. 

“ I am not a very rich man,” pursued his uncle, 

not so rich as the world thinks. Like Gobbo, I 
nave had losses. I cannot (}o justice to Marie, my 
dead son’s only child, and also provide for the heir 
of Tantallon.” 

Jack began to perceive the drift of his kins- 
man’s remarks. 

“ The situation is a strained one,” he admitted. 

“It is,” assented his uncle, “but you. Jack, can 
solve the difficulty. You can marry your cousin 
and consolidate the two interests. Then, and 
not till then, I shall be ready to shuffle off this 
mortal coil.” 

“ You will live for many years yet I trust,” said 
Jack, warmly. 

The Earl shook his head. 

“ Marie might not wish to marry me,” said 
Jack at last. 

“ Nonsense,” replied the old man quickly. “ I 
have purposely kept her in the school room as 
long as possible. She has seen no one and her 
ideas of life are colored solely by the romances 
she has read. She is a girl of lofty ideals.” 


12 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Ideals are blessed things to have in these 
days,” replied the young man with sudden enthu- 
siasm. “Why when I look into Marie’s eyes, I 
feel compelled to drop those miserable embroid- 
eries that usually garnish modern small talk. She 
lias such a truthful face that every man feels the 
better for seeing it.” 

“Upon my word. Master Jack, I think you are 
in love already.” 

“ I love her as a sister, my lord, I have never 
regarded her in any other light.” 

“ You never thought of her as your future 
bride ? ” 

“Never,” said Jack firmly. 

“ What an unsophisticated youth ! I gave you 
credit for more perspicacity.” 

“You did not even give me a timely hint of 
your wishes.” 

“ No, my boy ; I knew human nature too well. 
If I had flung Marie at your head when she her- 
self was hardly out of pinafores, with the obstinacy 
of our race, you would have refused to marry her. 
Now she is a woman, and one that any man might 
be proud to take to wife.” 

“ But,” stammered Jack, “ I ... I do not love 
her.” 

“ Love forsooth! — the ignis fatuus of youth and 
folly ! Don’t inflict upon me a lot of nonsense 
about love. You have cut your wisdom teeth. 
You know that passion is ephemeral, and that 


LORD TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 


13 


wealth and position are lasting. Your cousin 
Alick appreciates that much. The pestilent cox- 
comb has been making up to her under my very 
nose.” 

“ Alick is not a bad chap,” said Jack, “ and very 
good-looking.” 

“ He is a fool, sir, and bursting, like the frog in 
the fable, with his own importance. I would 
sooner see the girl in her coffin than married to 
such a sexless piece of conceit.” 

“ The mischief may have been done.” 

“ No, Jack, I have taken care to prevent that. 
You have the field to yourself. You are not, I 
presume entangled with any woman ? ” 

“Certainly not.” 

“ I am glad to hear it : we have had one mh~ 
salliance in the family.” 

“ I never heard my father speak of it,” said 
Jack. 

“ Yes, my elder brother married the daughter of 
a publican when he was twenty-three years old. 
The marriage was hushed up, and there is no men- 
tion of it in the peerage; but it took place for I 
saw the register myself.” 

“ What became of him ? ” 

“ He was drowned while crossing the Atlantic. 
I never shall forget my father’s rage when the 
marriage became known. There was a fearful 
scene in this very room. Your father and I weie 
present; Duncan was turned out of the house 


14 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


with the clothes he had on his back and a cheque 
for five hundred pounds in his pocket. Poor 
Duncan,” he added, with genuine emotion, “ what 
a good-looking boy he was ! ” 

“ What became of the wife? ” asked Jack. 

I don’t know,” replied the Earl indifferently, 
^‘she found employment in the States, I believe. 
But we have wandered from our subject. I wish 
you to consider seriously what I have said.” 

Nothing more was said, and Jack took hia 
leave much perturbed in mind. He passed into 
the hall in time to greet Lord and Lady Biddulph. 
Lord Biddulph was known as the best shot in En- 
gland — in fact he was in a class by himself. It 
was a saying in shooting circles that there were 
good shots, bad shots, and Lord Biddulph. Every 
year he slew hecatombs of game, and during the 
autumn was in great demand at battues and grouse 
drives. He had never shot over the Tantallon 
moors, and his visit in this instance was owing to 
Jiick Tantallon, who had been his fag at Eton, and 
liis most intimate friend ever since. His wife, a 
charming and popular woman, accompanied him 
everywhere and took the keenest interest in her 
lord’s shooting. 

They both hailed Jack as he came towards them. 

“ Jack looks fat,” said Lady Biddulph. “ He 
has fallen a victim to the fleshpots of Babylon.” 

“ I like a good dinner as much as you do,” re- 
torted Jack, “ a man who does not care what he 


LORD TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 15 

eats, puts himself on a level with the beasts of the 
field. Dick seems pretty fit.” 

“ He drinks nothing but barley water and only 
smokes one cigar a day ! ” 

“ He will have to look to his laurels to-morrow. 
Forth comes to-night.” 

“ I am sorry to hear it,” said Lady Biddulph, 
with some asperity, “ I don’t like Lord Forth.” 

Lord Forth was supposed by the cognoscenti to 
be the fortunate individual upon whom the mantle 
of Lord Biddulph would eventually fall. 

“ I will bet you a pair of gloves that he shoots 
more birds than Dick to-morrow.” 

‘‘ I will take you,” cried Lady Biddulph, “ a 
pair of dogskin driving gloves against twenty-four 
button peau-de-suede. Tell me. Jack, who else is 
coming? ” 

“ I don’t know, I have only just arrived myself. 
There is to be a big ball next week, so I liope you 
have brought your smartest frock. My cousin 
Marie is to come out at it.” 

“ I have never seen your cousin,” said Lady 
Biddulph ; ‘Hs she pretty ? ” 

“ If I tell you she is you will say she isn’t. Come 
into the drawing-room and judge for yourself.” 

“She is charming,” whispered Lady Biddulph, 
a few minutes later. “ She reminds me of the 
picture of the Countess Potocka — you know the 
one I mean — by Kauffman, and she looks every 
inch a Tantallon. You should marry her.” 


16 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ So my uncle says.” 

“Naturally he says so ; it is the only thing you 
can possibly do. You are a lucky man, Jack, and 
I congratulate you with all my heart. Mind, I 
shall present the bride.” 

“ Don’t joke about it,” said Taritallon, almost 
crossly, “ this is a very serious matter for me indeed, 
and I am at my wit’s end to know what to do.” 

“ Will you let me give you a word of advice ? ” 

“ Of course I will.” 

“ Then do nothing rashly. Marriage is a very 
serious step. It is the cant of the day to sneer at 
it, but a. happy union is a blessed thing, as I have 
found by experience. I have never told you my 
story but I will tell it now. I fell desperately in 
love, when I was your cousin’s age, with a man 
who cared precious little for me but a good deal 
for my fortune. He was a man of the world, and 
played with my feelings as a cat plays with a 
mouse. I would have done anything for him : I 
worshiped the ground he walked on, and he 
heartlessly jilted me for a richer woman.” 

“ What an infernal cad ! ” 

“ It was the kindest thing he could have done,” 
pursued Lady Biddulph, “if I had married him I 
should have discovered too late the nature of the 
beast. After such an experience I hated every 
man I came across. They were all in my e3’es 
absolutely selfish and sensual. Then I met Dick. 
The first thing that impressed me about him was 


LORI) TANTALLON STATES HIS WISHES. 


17 


his utter absence of vanity. I was so surprised at 
this that T became interested. He fell in love 
with me, and showed me the difference between 
himself and my former idol. I put his love to 
every test and then I accepted him, and lived hap- 
pily ever after. We are not called Darby and 
Joan for nothing. I have told you this,” she pur- 
sued, “ for a purpose. Don’t imagine, as many 
men do, that love is necessarily spontaneous ; I 
believe myself that the best hind of love is a plant 
of slow growth. Take your cousin and make a 
study of her character: analyze and dissect her as 
much as you please : unless her looks strangely 
belie her you will search far and wide before you 
find a sweeter or more lovable creature.” 

‘‘ She is certainly the nicest girl I know,” said 
Jack, “but ” 

“But me no buts. Just at present you feel a 
little put out because your uncle coolly orders you 
to marry her, but don’t let that influence you. 
Rise superior to such petty feeling.” 

“ You are a good friend,” said Jack warmly. 

“I am a firm friend and a relentless enemy,” 
laughed Lady Biddulph, “but you have monopo- 
lized me too long, I must go and make myself 
agreeable to the future Lady Tantallon. Poor 
Dick has come to the end of his conversational 
tether. Go, like a good Samaritan, and carry him 
off to the billiard room, he has a perfect horror of 
afternoon tea.” 

2 


CHAPTER III. 


JACK TANTALLON IS PIQUED. 

At five minutes past eight, Lord Tantallon 
offered his arm to Lady Biddulph and led the 
way into the banqueting hall. It was a noble 
room, panelled in black oak, with carvings by 
Grinling Gibbon, and a ceiling of cedar emblaz- 
oned with the different coats of arms of the Tan- 
tallon family. 

“ What a lovely room,” said Lady Biddulph. 

“ It is very well proportioned,” said the Earl, as 
he glanced carelessly around. 

“ I suppose all sorts of interesting events have 
happened here ? ” 

“Yes,” responded the Earl; “it is historically 
interesting. James the Fourth dined here many 
times, and quarreled over his wine, with my 
ancestors. We don’t often dine royalty now, but 
the quarreling goes on still. Marie Stuart sat in 
that oriel window and listened to the rough love- 
making of Both well. That carved chair was the 
especial property of the gaberlunzie king.” 

“ It looks very hard,” said Lady Biddulph. 

“ It is a relic of a hard age. We live now in 
the age of upholsterers.” 

18 


JACK TANTALLON IS PIQUED. 19 

“ The first desideratum in a chair;” said Atick 
Carrick-Fergus, “is that it should be soft.” 

“ To match the heads of the rising generation,” 
muttered Lord Tantallon. 

Lady Biddulph laughed. 

“You don’t believe in the rising generation, my 
lord ? ” 

“I believe in nothing,” replied the peer, with 
a bow; “save woman’s beauty. That, thank 
Heaven, in the upheaval of everything else has 
remained constant.” 

“ I should stick up for my genei^tion,” cried 
Lady Biddulph, “I believe it is better than any 
that has preceded it. We have more scientists 
and a purer and stricter code of ethics. Upon 
the question of physique, I appeal to Jack Tan- 
tallon.” 

“What is it. Lady Biddulph?” said Jack, who 
was paying strict attention to an excellent Usque 
aux ecrevisses. 

“ How do the athletes of the present day com- 
pare with those of the past ? ” 

“ Every record has been broken,” replied Jack. 

“ There,” said Lady Biddulph, turning tri- 
umphantly to her host, “ I think I have proved 
my case.” 

“You are a modern Portia, but you mistake me 
in this instance. I concede cheerfully that human- 
ity, as a whole, has advanced, but the upper 
classes, as a part, have retrograded. To-day the 


20 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH U3L 


very name of aristocrat is a peg for every gutter- 
bred radical to hang his ribald jests upon; the 
sympathy of the country is no longer with us. 
How do you account for the change? Whose 
fault is it ? ” 

“ The fault of Mr. Gladstone,” said Lady Bid- 
dulph, who was an ardent tory. 

Her host shook his head. 

“Over education,” said Lord Biddulph. 

“The fault lies with us,” said Jack, “we have 
brought it on ourselves.” 

“A Daniel, a Daniel,” cried Mrs. Forsyth. 

“I am no Daniel,” said Jack, good-humoredly, 
“and I know precious little about the subject, 
but I am certain of one thing: if we, as a class, 
have lost the respect of the masses, it is because 
we no longer respect ourselves, and cannot there- 
fore expect to command it in others.” 

Lord Tantallon looked hard at his nephew. 

“You are right,” he said, slowly. 

“ Who would have expected such words of 
wisdom from Jack,” cried Lady Biddulph, “Jack 
the Idle, Jack the Lazy.” 

“He is not lazy or idle,” said Marie Tantallon. 
“ Are you. Jack ? ” 

“ An accused person is not expected to give 
evidence against himself.” 

The conversation turned after the manner of 
modern small talk into a different channel. But 
Marie Tantallon was not satisfied. 


JACK TANTALLON IS PIQUED. 


21 


“Why do they call you idle and hizy?” she 
asked, softly. 

He looked at her pleasantly, with a suspicion 
of a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Confession is good for the soul,” he whispered. 
“ 1 am idle and lazy and generally good-for-noth- 
ing.” 

She scanned him critically. “ I don't believe* 
it,” she answered, “your face gives the lie to your 
words.” 

Like most Englishmen Tantallon hated a com- 
pliment. His color deepened. 

“No flattery, if you please.” 

“ I never flatter,” said Marie in a tone of indig- 
nation, “never. But Jack, if confession is good 
for your soul, make me your confessor. Why do 
you allow people to have such a poor opinion of 
you You ought to do something great.” 

Tantallon looked with renewed interest at the 
wife Fate, in the person of his uncle, had selected 
for him. 

“ Why don’t I do something great,” he repeated. 
“ Why Marie every thing in this world is vanity ; 
what is the use of doing anything?” 

She returned his gaze with flashing eyes. 

“ I hate to hear men talk like that,” she in- 
sisted. “You should be ambitious like Alick 
Carrick-Fergus.” 

“Alick,” repeated Jack in some astonishment; 
“is he ambitious?” 


22 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 

“He is very ambitious,” said Marie, confidently. 
“ His hobby is the grand awakening of the lower 
classes.” 

“How does he propose to do it?” 

“ He is full of plans and noble ideas. His 
theory is that the masses have no imagination, 
and nothing in their lives to give it to them. 
The love of the beautiful, he says, should be 
kindled in their hearts.” 

“ Are you going to help him to hold the torch? ” 

“You are laughing at me,” cried Marie. “I 
don’t believe you sympathize with the suffering 
masses.” 

“Not a bit,” said Jack, amused at her earnest- 
ness, “ neither does Alick. He only pretends.” 

“ You have no right to say so,” said Marie 
angrily. “ Why should you doubt his sincerity ? 
He is, I am sure, the soul of honor.” 

“Evidently,” thought Jack, “Alick has been 
making the best of his opportunities.” 

It was plain to Jack that his prig of a cousin 
had made an impression on Marie, who was at a 
hero-worshiping age. She had found her idol 
and enthroned it on a pedestal. Jack realized, 
too late, that his work as an iconoclast had re- 
coiled on his own head. His pretty cousin was 
offended with him on Alick’s account, and he had 
moreover misrepresented himself for his own 
amusement and Marie had taken him seriously. 
He felt piqued and disgusted. 


JACK TANTALLON IS PIQUED. 


23 


“No doubt she considers me a heartless brute,” 
he thought, “ a.nd I shall have no end of trouble 
to undeceive her.” He looked across the table at 
Alick Carrick-Fergus, who was laying down the 
law in a particularly aggressive manner. Mrs. 
Forsyth was listening to him with rapt attention. 

“We all spend too much time in eating and 
drinking,” Alick was saying, “ we ought to go back 
to an Edenic diet.” 

“ What is an Edenic diet ? ” asked Jack. 

“ An Edenic diet,’.’ replied Alick, pompously, “ is 
vegetable food ; oats, for instance, are very nutri- 
tious. Look at the work horses do on an oat diet.” 

“ It ought certainly to agree with asses then,” 
said Jack in a loud voice. 

Lord Tantallon laughed grimly. 

“ Alick shall have some for breakfast to-mor- 
row,” continued Jack, “it may make him shoot 
straight.” 

Alick, who was a notoriously bad shot, got very 
red, but went on talking to Mrs. Carrick-Fergus 
in a low tone. 

Marie Tantallon turned to Jack. 

“ You are very rude,” she said in an angry whis- 
per, “and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“ I am ashamed of myself,” murmured Jack, in 
a repentant tone. 

“ So you ought to be,” she replied, “ such rude- 
ness is inexcusable.” 

She did not vouchsafe him another word till she 


24 


THE R03IANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


bade him a cold good-night at the foot of the stair- 
case, and Jack began to feel distinctly aggrieved 
and unhappy. 

“ I don’t understand women,” he said to Dick 
Biddulph, as the two sat together in the smoking- 
room. 

‘‘Who does?” said Biddulph. 

They are so unjust, Dick, and they always 
judge a fellow by what he says rather than by 
what he is.” 

“Well,” said Biddulph, slowly, “I must say, 
Jack, you go out of your way to show people your 
worst side.” 

Jack smoked on in silence. 

“ You see,” said Biddulph, “ the world as a rule 
takes a man at his own valuation. With the ex- 
ception of myself there is probably not a soul in 
this house who really knows you.” 

“ I have played the fool so long that I have lost 
my own identity, I suppose ? ” 

“ My dear chap, don’t make mountains out of 
mole-hills, and for Heaven’s sake don’t get blue on 
the eve of the twelfth. How does Carrick-Fergus 
shoot?” 

“ He can’t hit a barn-door. I wonder he goes 
out shooting.” 

“ You were rather down upon him to-night at 
dinner. What is the matter with you, Jack?” 

“ He is such an infernal humbug, Dick, don’t 
let’s talk about him.” 


JACK TANTALLON IS PIQUED. 25 

“ I think I shall go to bed ; you had better come 
too, Jack.” 

Not I,” said Tantallon, “ this whisky is much 
too good to leave. I have no reputation to keep 
up. Good-night, old fellow.” 

Lord Biddulph went up-stairs and found his 
wife sitting before a bright fire. Even in August 
fires at Tantallon were a necessity. 

“ What is the matter with Jack Tantallon, 
Bessie ? ” 

“Nothing that I am aware of,” replied his wife 
yawning. “ Why ? ” 

“ He seems very down in the mouth about 
something. He was abusing women to me to- 
night.” 

Lady Biddulph looked meditatively at the fire. 

“Abusing women, was he?” 

Suddenly she burst into a peal of laughter. 

“Poor Jack,” she murmured softly; “what a 
sudden plunge ! Why, Dick,” she continued 
aloud, “he is in love. He does not know it yet, 
but he is — head over heels.” 

“ With whom ? ” 

“ With Marie Tantallon, you stupid man. 
Did’nt you notice to-night how Mr. Carrick-Fergus 
absolutely leaned over her? Our Jack is jealous. 
Why only this afternoon he was complaining to 
me that his uncle was forcing him to marry her. 
He has found out since then that the grapes are 
out of his reach and now he wants them. How 


26 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


like a man ! From a masculine point of view, 
the unattainable is always the only thing desir- 
able.” 

“ Are the grapes in this case unattainable ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied his wife, “ time alone 
will show. Goodness ! it is nearly one and you 
are not in bed, Dick. If Lord Forth shoots more 
birds than you to-morrow I shall die of vexation.” 

“ Forth is pitching into the whisky down-stairs,” 
said Biddulph ; “ don’t get excited, Bessie, I never 
felt more fit in my life.” 


CHAPTER lY. 


BETWEEN THE LINES. 

It has been said that Mrs. Carrick-Fergiis was 
a clever woman. She was also an unscrupulous 
one. Not that she would have admitted the fact 
for a moment, for she plumed herself upon the 
due observance of a nineteenth century Christi- 
anity, and assumed complacently the outward vis- 
ible sign of an inward spiritual grace that existed 
only in her imagination. She had married, as a 
young girl, a Scotch gentleman of good estate, 
and upon his death had found herself mistress of 
a comfortable jointure and a house in Cadogan 
Place. Her eldest son reigned over the family 
acres, and was amply provided for. But Alick, 
her Benjamin, was almost dependent upon his 
mother’s bounty ; a bounty, which, to do her jus- 
tice, was most liberally extended. Unfortunately 
for Alick, his mother’s jointure would revert at her 
death to his elder brother, with the exception of a 
meagre four hundred a year, which, to a gentle- 
man of his expensive tastes, seemed absolutely 
penury. 

“ It is an anachronism that I should be poor,” 
he was fond of saying, in an injured tone, “a 
glaring anachronism.” 


27 


28 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3L 


“ You must marry money,” replied his mother* 

That, in brief, was the salient object of her 
existence — that her son should marry a wealthy 
woman. To achieve this end she spared neither 
time nor trouble. Again and again the golden 
prize dangled within her reach only to elude her 
grasp. Alick was one of those men who, in racing 
parlance, make great running at first, but finish 
badly. Women found him out upon better ac- 
quaintance, perhaps because he was too lazy to 
play his part thoroughly ; perhaps by that instinct 
which in women is a safer guide than reason. 

Curiously enough he never objected to tell the 
story of his failures to any sympathetic friends 
who might be willing to listen to him. 

“ I have let a lot of chances slip through my 
fingers,” he would say. “ There was little Daisy 
Tollemache who had two thousand a year clear 
of her own. I could have married her any day 
of the week. Well I ran up to Tantallon for a 
few days salmon fishing and, by George, when I got 
back that ugly brute Lindesay had snapped her up. 
I call such luck sickening. Then there was Alice 
Fanshawe. That girl asked me to marry her, she 
did upon ray word; and I told her straight out 
tliat I was not in a position to marry a penniless 
woman. She was awfully cut up, and wept like 
Niobe. The very next week that uncle of hers 
in the jam business died, and she came into any 
amount of stuff, half a million at least.” 


BETWEEN THE LINES. 


29 


“Did you propose,” Jack Tantallon had once 
asked when they were dining together, and Alick 
had told him his tale of woe. 

“ Of course I did, and what do you think she 
said ? ” 

“ Told you to go to the devil, I suppose.” 

“ She said she was not in a position to marry a 
penniless man ! I could tell you. Jack, a dozen 
more yarns of the same kind. I really believe I 
am the most unlucky beggar in the world.” 

At the time of our story, the disappointed 
mother was well nigh desperate. Alick was past 
thirty, and still unsettled. Finally she resolved 
to make one more effort. She had studied the 
character of Marie Tantallon and could read the 
open and ingenuous mind of the young girl like a 
book. She knew that the large personalty of the 
Earl must be eventually fters, if not Tantallon 
Castle. After long deliberation she sent for her 
son and unfolded her plans. 

“ Uncle Sholto will never consent,” said Alick. 
“ He hates me like poison.” 

“ He cannot live long,” said Mrs. Carrick-Fer- 
gus, in a low tone, “ I have it on the authority of 
his physician. You can afford to wait; in fact it 
is your only chance.” 

“ I will consider the matter,” said Alick, twirl- 
ing his moustache. 

“ You must go cautiously to work,” pursued 
his mother, “ Marie is full of old-fashioned ideas 


30 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


gleaned from old-fashioned books : these ideas you 
must treat with respect and consideration. Of 
our world she knows nothing. Encourage her to 
talk, and be sympathetic in return. Tell her 
confidentially about yourself. Represent your- 
self as very ambitious, but tied hand and foot by 
the curse of poverty. Sneer as much as you 
please at the modern methods of making money ; 
Marie with her high flown notions has no sympa- 
thy with them. She is naturally a strong-minded 
girl ; but in her very strength lies her weakness. 
You could not find a better or sweeter wife.” 

“ I should make her a good husband,” said 
Alick, complacently. 

“If I were not convinced of that,” replied his 
mother severely, “ I should never have suggested 
this to you. I know my duty.” 

With this infinitesimal sop she soothed her 
conscience. 

“Remember, Alick, no philandering. You 
must concentrate yourself upon the object you 
have in view. Marie is too high-spirited to share 
the allegiance of her lover with another woman.” 

“ She is a nice little girl.” 

“If I could see you safely married to her,” 
sighed Mrs. Carrick-Fergus, “I could sing my 
Nunc Dimittisr 

“ Why, mother you are good for another thirty 
years.” 

“I have arranged,” she continued with mean- 


BETWEEN THE LINES. 


31 


ing, that you and I shall spend a fortnight at 
Tantallon alone before the house-party assembles; 
in that time much may be done. Don’t let the 
grass grow under '’eel ” 

A few days later they went north. 


CHAFIER V. 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 

The room assigned to Jack Tantallon was situ- 
ated in the bachelor’s wing. The windows com- 
manded a view of a small rose garden that be- 
longed nominally to Miss Tantallon, and it was 
her habit, on fine mornings, to spend half an hour 
in this odorous spot, snipping off here and there 
such blossoms as might be wilted, or otherwise 
unpleasing to her fastidious eye. 

Jack Tantallon, as he donned his tweeds, per- 
ceived her slender figure flitting to and fro be- 
neath him, and the sight accelerated both his 
pulse and his toilet. 

“I shall have time to make my peace before 
breakfast,” he thought. “ What a little witch she 
looks.” 

His encomium was not undeserved : manners 
may make the man, but clothes, or rather cloth- 
iers, make the modern woman. Marie Tantallon 
with her patrician face and figure, her lovely com- 
plexion and brilliant eyes, would have commanded 
attention and admiration in the garb of a beggar- 
maid ; but turned out by one of the first tailors 
of the day, she was simply irresistible. Beside 
32 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 


33 


her was a noble deerhound of the breed that Scott 
loved. 

“ What an ear]y bird you are,” said Jack, when 
he got within speaking distance. 

She bade him good-morning a trifle coldly. 

“Still cross?” he asked dolorously. 

She looked at his honest cheery face and smiled. 

“Jack, you deserve a good scolding, but I am 
not going to spoil this lovely morning by giving 
it you.” 

“ I am really penitent, Marie ; I don’t know 
what got into me last night.” 

“I am afraid. Jack, a lot of whiskey did. Do 
you know what time it was when you men went - 
to bed ? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves 
sitting up to the wee sma’ hours on the eve of the 
twelfth. You made such a noise when you came 
up stairs that you woke me up.” 

“It was late,” said Jack, “but, Marie, about 
last night: you have quite forgiven me, eh? You 
will kiss and make friends? ” 

She held out her hand frankly. 

“No kissing. Master Jack.” 

“ Why you used to kiss me, Marie.” 

“ When I was in short frocks, I dare say.” 

“ You have changed,” he said with emphasis. 

“ I have emerged from my cocoon.” 

She made a pirouette and dropped him a curt- 
sey. “Ah, how good it is to be . . . out.” 

He recalled the child he had romped with and 
3 


34 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


caressed barely a year ago, and tried to reconcile 
her with this laughing, peerless creature. 

Suddenly her mood changed. - 
“ Jack,” she said, seriously, “you are nearly ten 
years older than I, and I dare say you will think 
that I’m very impertinent. But, tell me — why 
don’t you do something — something worthy of 
yourself and your name? They called you last 
night idle and lazy — idle and lazy — those were 
the words they used ! Shameful words. Jack, but 
you did not seem to resent them. Then when I 
spoke to you, you laughed as if you did not care.” 
“ Perhaps I did really care, Marie.” 

“You should care. Jack. Fancy a big strong 
man like you called idle and lazy. Why it is ter- 
rible. You were saying at dinner that the people 
had lost their respect for us, because we no longer 
respected ourselves, and grandpapa said that was 
true. Do you know I looked round the table and 
nobody seemed to care whether it was true or not. 
They all sat there and simpered. It was evidently 
a comedy to them. To me,” she clasped her 
hands, “ it was a tragedy.” 

“I suppose,” said Jack, in a low voice, “you 
could not respect a lazy man, Marie? ” 

“ No,” she replied earnestly. “ How could I ? 
I dare say I am different from other girls. You 
see I have lived by myself, and I have read — oh 
everything that I could get hold of. I have cer- 
tain ideas — principles if you like — and all my 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 


35 


thoughts and opinions are grafted on these ideas 
and governed by them.” 

“ You mean ideals not ideas, Marie. You are 
very young and like most young women very se- 
vere. You make no allowances. You condemn 
without due consideration. You don’t temper 
justice with mercy. In time you will change: 
you will. grow more tolerant: then, perhaps, an 
unworthy individual like me may find some favor 
in your eyes. I might make excuses, but I prefer 
to keep silence.” 

“ Yes, Jack. Silence is best for . . . you.” 

“ Why do you think me capable of better 
things ? ” 

“ You are a Tantallon,” replied the girl proudly. 
“ You have the Tantallon features. When you 
are serious you are the living image of old Sir 
Sliolto, the Crusader. I wonder he doesn’t turn 
in his grave, poor thing ! ” 

“ At the sight of me, Marie — his degenerate 
descendant— the unemployed?” 

“ Yes at the sight of you. Jack. He may have 
done some wicked deed and this is his punish- 
ment. He watches the gradual decline of his 
race, and can do nothing to avert it.” 

The smile died out of Jack’s face. 

“You are right, Marie. Believe me, I appreci- 
ate the force of your strictures. I am not so in- 
different as I seem. I am sick to death of the 
life I am leading, sick to death ! ” 


36 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3L 


“ Ah,” said Marie, “ now you are talking like 
the old Jack. In the olden days you would have 
seized your lance, summoned your vassals and 
ridden forth to great and glorious deeds.” 

‘Mn the olden days — perhaps,” said Jack rue- 
fully, “ but there are no Crusades now. It is a 
fact that anxious as I am to be up and doing, 
there is nothing at present that I can do ! ” 

“ Nothing to do,” she echoed. “ Why there 
are, there must be, a thousand things to do. You 
will succeed if you put your big shoulder to the 
wheel. I feel it — I believe it.” 

“ I shall try and justify that belief, Marie. You 
don’t know how I prize your good opinion — your 
approval. Your liking I have, but I want your 
respect.” 

“^When you talk like this, soberly and seriously, 
you have my respect. Jack. Set yourself a high 
standard.” 

“ You, Marie, have unconsciously set it for me 
alread}^” 

She blushed. 

“No,” she replied confusedly, “I am only a 
foolish girl. Perhaps I have been forward in 
speaking to you as I have, but I feel these things 
strongly, and if I feel a thing strongly I have to 
speak out. I cannot keep my emotions down. 
They rise up and choke me unless I give them 
words.” 

“ Let the words come, Marie. They fall natur- 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 


37 


ally from your lips. The instinct to speak out is 
a true instinct.” 

This young man, as a rule heedless alike of 
blame and praise, in the presence of this girl, this 
child hardly emancipated from the school room, 
was humble and abased. Thus is love not only a 
teacher, but a reformer — especially the love of an 
honest youth for a pure maid. There is another 
kind of love — more enduring perhaps, but not so 
strong or so sweet — the love of a mother for a 
son. Of this love our poor Jack had no experi- 
ence. The restraining influences of home had 
never distilled their beneflcent dew upon his 
head. His mother had died when he was a child. 
The prayers that he had lisped at her knee were 
long ago forgotten : the memory of her sweet face 
and gentle words had faded away with the lapse 
of years. Truly — as Lord Tantallon had said — 
excuses might be found for him. 

Now the other kind of love had entered into 
him and taken possession. It absorbed his whole 
being, and, for good and evil, was the dominant 
factor of his life. Just at present this influence 
was for good. At such a time high hopes and 
ambitions are conceived : noble resolutions are 
formed. The soil of a young man’s heart, warmed 
by the genial beams from his mistress’s eyes, is 
fertile, friable and receptive. The prospect of a 
bountiful harvest is excellent. There are cynics 
who assert that this ample promise seldom fructi- 


38 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


fies. These uncharitable folk sneer at the glori- 
ous hopes kindled by the torch of Cupid : they 
scoff at burning resolutions murmured before the 
cestus'of Venus. Wait — they say — Wait! This, 
however, is sure: nothing is really lost. Any 
influence for good, no matter how ephemeral, 
makes its mark: it helps to leaven the loaf of 
evil : it leaves a loophole, albeit a small one, for a 
future escape from the bondage of Satan. 

“ Give me a rose,” said Jack suddenly. 

She selected a Marechal Neil bud, and held it 
towards him. 

“ Shall I pin it in your coat,” she asked. 

“No,” he said, producing a letter from his 
pocket. “ I am going to put it safely away.” 

“You are going to keep a flower? What a 
ridiculous Jack you are. You never cared about 
flowers in the old days : I used to think it was 
the only blot on your character.” 

“ Like you I am changed,” he replied, signifi- 
cantly. “ Come, let us go to breakfast.” 

Side-by-side they paced in silence along the 
great terrace that looked forth upon the grey 
surges of the Atlantic. When they reached the 
front door, Jack, as he held it open, said a last 
word. 

“Keep a corner in your heart for me, Marie; 
in all the new distractions and excitements 
that are coming to you, don’t forget your first 
friends.” 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 


39 


“ Of course not,” she replied, warmly. “ A Tan- 
tallon never forgets.” 

In the breakfast room all the men were assem- 
bled, and nearly all of the women. Jack found 
an empty chair next to Mrs. Forsyth. She was a 
woman of a type he heartily detested. Her hus- 
band, Tom Forsyth, a good looking man in the 
Carabineers, had married her out of the school 
room. They had ostensibly lived together for 
some years, but Forsj^th went his way and she 
went hers. This, of course, gave rise to much 
evil gossip, but Mrs. Tom, as she was called, trod 
the paths she had chosen with so much circum- 
spection that she fairly silenced the tongues of 
her enemies, and in time became a distinct social 
success. She posed effectively as a patient 
Grizel ; and people were in the habit of saying, 
“ Poor little thing, there is no harm in her. I 
am told that that brute Forsyth actually beats 
her. It would be a charity to ask her down for 
a few days.” 

She had generally two or three men in her 
train whom she graciously permitted to furnish 
her with flowers and theatre tickets. During the 
past season Lord Forth and Alick Garrick- Fergus 
had paid her great attention, and it was amusing 
to note the consummate tact with which she man- 
aged the two. No woman ever understood more 
thoroughly the art of being all things to all men. 
With Lord Forth she was gay, full of anecdote 


40 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 

and decidedly sporting — with Garrick* Fergus she 
talked the ism’s, and confessed to a leaning to- 
wards eclectic homeopathy and theosophy. 

Jack knew Tom Forsyth well: knew him at 
Eton, knew him at Oxford, knew him for an 
honorable man and a thorough-paced gentleman, 
and knowing all this it may be inferred that his 
opinion of Mrs. Tom was not an exalted one. 

“ Tell me,” she said presently in a low tone, 
“who will shoot most birds to-day, — Lord Forth 
or Lord Biddulph ? ” 

“ Forth has not the ghost of a chance,” said Jack. 

“ Lots of people think him the better shot.” 

“Who are they, these people?” asked Jack. 
“ Do they know what they are talking about ? ” 

“ Mr. Carrick-Fergus told me so.” 

“Mr. Carrick-Fergus is a great authority when 
he talks about Mr. Carrick-Fergus, but he knows 
precious little about sport. However,” he added 
with a laugh, “ I suppose I must be careful what 
I say. He is a friend of yours, I believe.” 

“ He has transferred his allegiance,” said Mrs. 
Tom tartly. 

“ To my cousin, you mean ? ” 

“ Yes, she seems quite interested in him.” 

Jack gnawed his mustache in silence. 

“What a good-looking couple they would 
make ! ” 

She watched Tantallon closely, with a gleam of 
malice in her heavily-lidded eyes. 


JACK IS HARD HIT. 


41 


Very good-looking,” assented Jack. 

“ You do not approve of the match, Mr. Tan- 
tallon, do you ? Nor do I,” she added, in a whis- 
per ; “ she is a thousand times too good for him. 
Let us join forces and put a stop to it.” 

Astonished at her audacity, Jack hesitated. 

“ I can nip the thing in the bud,” she went on, 
“ with a word ; one little word from me and all 
the pretty castles in Marie Tantallon’s brain will 
crumble into dust. Shall I say the word ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t think I should advise any interference, 
Mrs. Forsyth.” 

Poor Jack! how often in the days to come 
he wished that he had given a different an- 
swer. To his manly nature the idea of plac- 
ing himself under an obligation to this smil- 
ing, sensuous woman, whom no one respected, 
was hateful. He did not stop to consider that 
the end, Marie’s happiness, justified his listening 
to whatever she might have to say. Oblivious of 
any side issue, he thought, as he rode and shot, 
straight to the point ; and he answered on the 
spur of the moment bluntly and almost rudely. 

Mrs. Tom made it a rule never to accept a re- 
buff. 

“ Perhaps you are right,” she murmured sweetly, 
“it is such a mistake to put one’s finger into 
other’s pies — but of course there is no rule without 
an exception. I am very sorry for Miss Tantal- 
lon.” 


42 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM 


Jack got up from breakfast with a heavy heart 
for this last barbed speech had gone to the mark, 
and the memory of it rankled there during the 
day, and spoiled his fun if it did not spoil his 
shooting. As a rule he was too keen, but on this 
occasion he cared little whether he hit or missed, 
and fired with such complete indifference as to re- 
sults that the birds came tumbling down in all 
directions, after a fashion that thoroughly aston- 
ished his friend, Biddulph, and evoked botli wrath 
and envy from Lord Forth. At the end of the 
best drive Lord Biddulph had fifty-one birds on 
the heather — Jack forty-eight — and Lord Forth 
thirty -five : the rest nowhere. 

At luncheon he was overwhelmed with compli- 
ments but he received them all with indifference. 

“He is very hard hit,” thought Lady Biddulph. 
“ How stupid of him to show it. When will men 
take a lesson from us and learn to hide their 
hearts, instead of wearing them on their sleeves.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


MRS. TOM FORSYTH. 

Mrs. Forsyth was one of those wise women 
who invariably make friends with the Mammon 
of unrighteousness. Tantallon Castle, in her eyes, 
appeared a desirable camping ground, and con- 
sequently it behooved her to be on the best of 
terms with the prospective owner whoever he or 
she might be. When Jack Tantallon refused her 
offer of assistance she at once made up her mind 
to go over, body and soul, to the enemy. Her 
demure eyes were trained to look below the sur- 
face, and her ready mind gauged with unerring 
acumen the advantages that might accrue to her- 
self in the capacity of confidential adviser, and 
wire-puller. 

Accordingly she sought out Alick Carrick- 
Fergus, who was resting his weary limbs after 
his exertions on the heather, and taxed him 
openly with his desertion and want of faith. 

“What an opinion you must have of poor little 
me.” 

Alick laughed constrainedly. 

“ I have the best opinion of you.” 

“ Have you ? Then why not take me into your 

43 


44 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


confidence. I can assist you materially. Sup- 
pose I whispered a few words into Marie’s ear.” 

“ You would never do that, Helen.” 

“ I mean pleasant things. I might tell her how 
honorable you were : that your word was better 
than your bond. Why, dear, me, I might paint 
you as a second Bayard.” 

“ Don’t be nasty,” growled Alick, “if you really 
want to help me you can.” 

“ I really and truly do. There is a forgiving 
spirit for you.” 

“ You are a good little thing,” said Alick. 

“ Thanks : and now ? ” 

“ You know my position,” he continued, “ I 
must marry money. I am not my own master 
like that clown Jack Tantallon. If I were,” he 
added, with an expressive glance out of his beau- 
tiful eyes, “ I should remain single, for your sake, 
Helen.” 

“ Bah,” cried Mrs. Tom, “ don’t be sentimental, 
Alick ; you and I have done with that. As for 
Jack Tantallon he is in love with his cousin him- 
self.” 

“ What, you don’t say so ! ” 

“ I do indeed, it is plain to be seen. Your eyes 
are merely ornamental or you would have found 
out that fact for yourself.” 

“D . . . n him,” said Alick, “I owe him a 
grudge, and I shall be glad of the opportunity of 
paying my debt. He has always been in my way. 


31ES. TOM FORSYTH. 


45 


Now I ask you candidly which is the more fitted 
to come into a title and estates — he or I ? ” 

“ If you ask me to speak the truth, I should say 
he was.” 

“Oh come, you are joking. He isn’t qualified 
for the position at all ; why he does not even know 
how to talk.” 

“ He does not need to,” said Mrs. Tom, “ Mrs. 
Grundy will talk to him. Never you fear, she will 
do the talking.” 

“ Well I call it devilish hard lines. The fact is 
Fate is against me.” 

“ Never mind Fate,” said Mrs. Tom impatiently, 
“ I don’t think Fate troubles herself much about 
you one way or the other.' Tell me your plans.” 

“I wish to become engaged to Marie Tan- 
tallon.” 

“You wish to marry her you mean.” 

“ No, not as yet : my uncle sent for me the 
other day and told me, with his cursed sneer, that 
if Marie married without his consent he would 
cut her off with a shilling. The old tyrant means 
what he says. Thank Heaven he can’t last much 
longer ; apoplexy will carry him off inside of six 
months.” 

Even Mrs. Forsyth, tinged as she was with the 
worldliness of her generation, felt a thrill of 
disgust at this cold-blooded speech. Once she 
had loved this man, loved him for his beauty of 
form, his grace of movement, his caressing voice ; 


46 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


now she hated him and with difficulty disguised 
her hatred. 

“ How do you stand in regard to her ? ” 

“ She loves me,” said Alick with odious sim- 
plicity. 

“Poor child,” thought his listener, “if she 
could only hear him now.” 

“ Have you proposed to her?” 

“ I have not had a good opportunity.” 

“ She will accept you of course.” 

“ I suppose so.” 

“ You will then persuade her to hold her 
tongue ? ” 

“ Naturally — if she spoke out our little bubble 
of romance would burst immediately.” 

“ Your mother knows all this ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And she advises you to propose.” 

“ She does.” 

“Well,” she mused a moment and looked him 
straight in the eyes, “ if you take my advice you 
will do nothing of the sort.” 

“ Not propose,” said Alick, “ why, Helen, what 
on earth do you mean, what am I to do ? ” 

“Simply this ; it is clear to me that you know 
nothing of Marie’s character. She is the very 
soul of truth, and as open-hearted as a child. Do 
you think she can hide matters from that eagle- 
eyed old man ? not for a week, not for a day. 
She would betray herself in a thousand ways. If 


MRS. TOM FORSYTH. 


47 


she loves you she will be content to wait. Tell 
her that your tongue is tied ; she will respect your 
silence and love you the better for it : but once 
engaged to you she will unknowingly abandon 
her maidenly reserve ; your uncle will tax her 
with the truth ; she will admit it, and brave the 
consequences ! — Tableau — an enraged grandfather, 
a weeping girl, and a fool, that’s you, wanting to 
kick himself for his folly ! ” 

“Upon my soul,” said Alick after a pause, “I 
believe you are right.” 

“ Of coui'se I am ; it does not admit of argu- 
ment, the force of what I say must penetrate the 
dullest understanding.” 

Alick Carrick-Fergus went off to dinner determ- 
ined to abide by this advice. Like most weak- 
minded men he paid the greatest deference to the 
opinions of others. Old Lord Tantallon thus ac- 
counted for his success as a squire of dames. 

“Women,” he would say with a chuckle, “are 
devilish poor judges of men, the more a woman 
thinks you value her counsel, worthless though it 
may be, the more she likes you.” 

In this case the advice was good but heartless. 
Mrs. Tom in the solitude of her room realized that 
she had played a most unwomanly and humilia- 
ting part : she even went so far as to shed a few 
tears. None of us are all bad, and the leaven in 
Mrs. Tom’s perverted nature sometimes came to 
the surface, speedily, however, to be thrust out of 


48 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


sight. Her scruples upon tliis occasion, vanished 
under the excitement of seeing a new dress, fresh 
from the hands of Kate Reilly and she consoled 
herself, after the fashion of her kind, with the as- 
surance that Jack Tantallon had treated her 
badly. 

“ It is all his fault,” she murmured, as she gazed 
at the reflection of her pretty self in the glass, 
“ he is responsible and not I.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE EAEL SENDS FOR HIS LAWYER. 

A LARGE country house affords many opportu- 
nities of making love, and Jack was not slow to 
take advantage of them. But somehow, to use 
his own expression, he got no “ forrarder.” Marie 
invariably met him on the most aggravatingly 
cousinly terms, and Jack was the last man in the 
world to force upon any woman attentions pos- 
sibly distasteful. He noticed, moreover, when 
talking to her, that if Alick Carrick-Fergus came 
into the room her attention wandered. If he 
spoke, she became instantly attentive ; if he 
moved, she followed him with her eyes; and Jack, 
not being blind, drew his own conclusions. 

“She certainly loves him,” he thought, “but 
he, does he love her ? ” 

The reader can already answer this question. 
Alick, of course, loved no one but his good-look- 
ing self: and, in any case cared little for unripe 
fruit, as he contemptuously called Marie. He 
liked to be able to talk freely, and such women as 
Mrs. Hobart Hope, or Lady Gore Stanley, he cul- 
tivated with assiduity, because he could whisper 
into their ears the latest scandal, and made racy 

49 


4 


50 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


and amusing comments thereon. But Marie, 
poor Marie, with her lofty ideals and pure ingenu- 
ous mind — she bored him consumedly. The fact 
that she was in love with him tickled his vanity, 
but he was so accustomed to the homage of 
women that, after the first few days this new 
victim to his charms failed even to ar©use his in- 
terest. 

A very young and innocent girl takes a great 
deal for granted, and as a rule invests her first 
lover with a perfect halo of romance. She re- 
serves, foolish virgin, all accurate analysis of his 
character till after marriage. Alick, when alone 
with Marie, overwhelmed her with full-sounding 
generalities that interested the child intensely, 
because, woman-like, she assumed that they veiled 
and included a personality. Her lover was an 
adept at this kind of electro-plate conversation, 
and Marie was not experienced enough to distin- 
guish the counterfeit from sterling coin. It rang 
true, but the weight was short — and Marie’s 
mental scales were not yet adjusted. 

Jack took his hopes and fears to Lady Bid- 
dulph. 

“I hate to run a fellow down,” he said shame- 
facedly, “but I am certain my cousin cares noth- 
ing for Marie ; he is after her money — ” 

“ I don’t like your cousin at all,” said Lady 
Biddulph, “ and I tell you candidly. Jack, I like 
his mother still less, and the women she has here. 


THE EARL SENDS FOR HIS LAWYER. 51 

They are odious. Of course you men are out on 
the moors all day so it makes little or no differ- 
ence to you, but it is very disagreeable to me. I 
have made great friends with your Juliet. She is 
perfectly delightful; but, my poor boy, she cares 
nothing for you.” 

“I know it,” said Jack dejectedly. 

“ Under the circumstances,” said Lady Biddulph, 
“you can do nothing but accept the inevitable 
with a good grace. You may comfort yourself 
with the thought that there are still some good 
fish in the sea.” 

“ What care I how good they be, if they be not 
good for me,” misquoted Jack, who was feeling 
desperately sore and miserable. 

Jn the course of the last few days he had taken 
the disease badly. Love is like any other fever — 
it runs amuck with the strongest constitutions, 
and only plays with the feeble ones, on the princi- 
ple that the wind ought to be tempered to the 
shorn lamb. Alick Carrick-Fergus, if caught in 
a shower, would not have gone out of a walk to 
fetch Marie her umbrella: Jack would have 
courted the most deadly danger for her sake, and 
like the paladins of old undertaken incredible 
feats of valor for a smile from her lips, or a glove 
from her hand. 

“ I shall stop till the ball is over and then get 
out of this.” 

“ Where will you go?” 


62 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Anywhere — I am sick of society, and sick of 
England.” 

“ You will give up the rest of the shooting sea- 
son ? ” 

“ Why not ? What do I care about potting a 
lot of harmless birds ! ” 

“ My dear Jack,” said Lady Biddulph seriously, 
“ for Heaven’s sake be a man. You don’t imagine 
that you are the only disappointed lover in the 
universe. I think you are wise to try change of 
scene and you can carry these few grains of 
comfort with you. I believe, mind I am not jok- 
ing, that everything will come right in the end.” 

“ Come right,” repeated Tantallon, “ in what 
way ? ” 

“ In the first place,” pursued her ladyship, hold- 
ing up a white but capable hand, “in the first 
place Marie Tantallon is no fool. She is on the 
contrary an extremely clever girl. I argue there- 
fore that in time she will plumb to his superficial 
depths your handsome cousin. Then the reaction 
will set in, and Prince Charming will get his 
walking papers. After a suitable time has elapsed 
Mr. John Tantallon, fresh from the Congo or the 
North Pole, will present himself and carry all be- 
fore him.” 

“If I really thought that I should go away 
happy.” 

“ Be happy then, for I feel the gift of prophecy 
strong upon me. In your absence I shall keep 


THE EABL SENDS FOR HIS LAWYER. 


53 


my ears and eyes open and report progress. 
You can leave your address with me, and either 
Dick or I will write.” 

Tantallon thanked her with a heart consider- 
ably lighter. He had great faith in his friend’s 
wife, and knew her for a woman of sense and 
judgment. Perhaps, in the end, everything would 
come right, and in the meantime he would travel 
and see the world. 

The same evening Lord Tantallon sent for him. 

“ Have you anything to tell me ? ” he asked 
curtly. 

“ Marie cares nothing for me,” said Jack 
quietly, “ I am going away directly after the ball.” 

The Earl drew his shaggy brows together in a 
heavy frown. 

“You have not tried to make yourself agree- 
able. I warned you not to thwart my wishes.” 

“ Your wishes,” said Jack, his eyes blazing with 
the emotions he had so long restrained, “ what are 
your wishes in comparison to mine ! I love Marie 
with all my heart and soul. If she were penni- 
less, and my marrying her co*st me Tantallon 
and all I have in the world I would take her 
gladly and thank God for the gift.” 

The Earl looked at his haggard face and took 
a pinch of snuff. 

“No heroics, if you please, I cannot' stand 
them at my time of life. You shall have Tantal- 
lon and Marie too.” 


54 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ You cannot force her to marry me.” 

“ Have you asked her to be your wife? ” 

“ You can take my word for it that it would be 
useless,” said Jack bitterly. 

“ The child does not know her own mind,” 
cried the peer angrily, “ she must be made to see 
reason ; pressure may be brought to bear upon 
her.” 

“Do you think,” said Jack fiercely, “that I 
would take her under such conditions ? ” 

“ You are an obstinate young fool.” 

“I may be a fool,” retorted Jack, “but I am 
not a knave. My future wife must come to me 
gladly or not at all.” 

He did not wait for an answer but left the room. 

Lord Tantallon took another pinch of snuff. 

“ A fiery spark,” he said half aloud, “ but I sup- 
pose he is right : at his age I should feel the 
same. What the deuce is the matter with the 
girl that she can’t love him ? ” 

He remained deep in thought for a few min- 
utes. 

“No other possible construction can be placed 
upon it,” he murmured: “After all these years of 
care I have been hoodwinked and deceived: that 
cursed puppy has stolen her heart.” 

He got up and paced the room with uneven 
steps. 

“ So much the worse for her,” he hissed be- 
tween his teeth, “ if she chooses to defy me 


THE EARL SENDS FOR HIS LAWYER. 


55 


under my own roof she must take the conse- 
quences.” 

He seized a telegram form and wrote a few 
lines to his lawyers in Edinburgh, requesting the 
senior member of the firm to start for Tantallon 
on the morrow. With unfaltering hand he placed 
it in an envelope and rang the bell. 

Send off this dispatch without delay,” he said 
to the footman, “and ask Miss Tantallon to be 
good enough to come here at once.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 


AN AUTOCRAT. 

“Sit down my child,” said the Earl not un- 
kindly, “ I wish to ask you a question.” 

She gravely seated herself in a large arm-chair 
opposite to him. 

“You are a good girl,” continued the peer, 
“ and have always done your best to please me. 
Moreover you habitually tell the truth. I wish 
you to tell the truth now. Is there anything be- 
tween you and your cousin Alick ? ” 

“ I don’t know what you mean, grandpapa,” 
faltered Marie. 

Lord Tantallon fixed his piercing blue eyes full 
upon her. 

“ Don’t prevaricate,” he said sternly. “ Have 
there been any love passages between you and 
Alick ? ” 

“No,” replied Marie, recovering her self-posses- 
sion, “ there have not.” 

“ You are not engaged to him? ” 

“ I am not,” she answered with dignity. 

The Earl gave a sigh of relief. 

“ Thank God,” he ejaculated. 

“ Is that all you wished to ask me, grandpapa ? ” 
said Marie timidly. 

56 


AN AUTOCRAT. 


57 


“No, my dear, I have more to say. What do 
you think of your cousin Jack ? He is a good 
fellow, isn’t he ?” 

“ There is nobody like Jack,” said Marie warmly. 

Her grandfather looked at her in some astonish- 
ment. 

“ He loves you passionately,” he said without 
further preamble. 

“Loves me,” she repeated softly, “Jack loves 
me — impossible ! ” 

“ I am not in the habit of stating impossi- 
bilities,” said her grandfather stiffly. 

Suddenly the light broke in upon her. The 
altered behavior of Jack, his strange seriousness, 
his persistent attentions were at last accounted 
for. She sat blushing in painful silence. 

“ It is my dearest wish that you should marry 
your cousin. Not only do the dictates of com- 
mon-sense demand the match but also the in- 
terests of our house, which I know you have at 
heart. Jack with Tantallon to keep up would be 
a pauper peer, and yet my personalty should go 
of right to you.” 

“I don’t want it,” cried Marie, “give it all to 
Jack.” 

“ Pshaw, you speak like a child ; try for a mo- 
ment to be a woman. Look at the matter in the 
true light. Where can you find a better husband 
than Jack ; he loves you devotedly, he is chival- 
rous, high-spirited, and a thorough gentleman.” 


58 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ He is all that, and yet . . . and yet I cannot 
marry him.” 

“ May I ask your reasons ? ” 

“ I do not love him.” 

She was very pale but otherwise composed. 

“ I will give you a week to reconsider this,” 
said the Earl coldly, “ at the end of that time I 
shall expect a different answer. Remember this^ 
your mother’s fortune comes to you, a paltry ten 
thousand pounds, but outside of that you are de- 
pendent upon me.” 

“ Have I ten thousand pounds ? ” asked Marie. 

“ Between ten and eleven ; a sum, which prop- 
erly invested brings in about enough to pay for 
your pretty frocks and charities.” 

“ It seems a good deal of money,” she remarked 
innocently. 

“ There is a vast difference between that and 
thirty thousand a year,” replied the peer grimly. 
“ Bear the difference in mind.” 

With his experience of human nature the Earl 
should have known that this sort of world’s 
arithmetic was not to his granddaughter’s taste. 
He had brought her up in ignorance of all money 
matters. When her purse became empty it was 
filled : everything that was needful was bought at 
the best places and the bills sent in to the peer. 
Ten thousand pounds in her eyes seemed fabulous 
wealth. 

She went gaily to bed, and dreamed that she 


AN AUTOCRAT. 


59 


and Alick were married and living i!i a garden of 
roses. 

dlie Earl too laid an easy liead upon his pillow. 

“ Matters will adjust themselves,” he said to 
himself. “If Marie does not love Jack now she 
will in time. I am almost sorry I sent for McFee 
(Mr. McFee was the chief partner in the eminent 
legal firm of McFee and McFee, Edinburgh.) 
However, no matter.” 

Before he retired he sent a note to Jack which 
for the benefit of the reader is here appended. 

My Dear Jack: — 

Pray do nothing hastily. I have seen Marie 
and your affair is not nearly as desperate as you 
imagine. I much feared there had been love 
passages between her and Alick Garrick- Fergus, 
but it appears I was mistaken. Take the advice 
of an old man and don’t get discouraged : the 
battle of love is never lost till it is won. If I 
spoke inconsiderately this evening forgive me. My 
temper has ever been of the hottest, but no one 
has your welfare more at heart than your affec- 
tionate uncle, Tantallon. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE TANTALLON BALL. 

A FIRST ball ought to be a red letter day in 
every nice girl’s life, for it is the first stepping- 
stone across the pleasant brook which divides 
childhood from womanhood. Upon the one side 
stretches the past, a fertile country enough, but 
flat and of sombre tone ; and to the eye of the 
gazer monotonous and uninteresting. But the 
other side — that fairyland of the future, veiled in 
roseate mists — what hidden possibilities of happi- 
ness and excitement await her there ! What 
dainty and fanciful visions flit softly and swiftly 
before her dreaming eyes. 

Marie Tantallon was not one of those hoary- 
minded debutantes who view their first ball dress 
with careless unconcern ; for many months she 
looked eagerly forward to her social baptism, and 
with good reason. The whole country side was 
invited, and not only was the Castle itself filled 
with guests from basement to garret, but all the 
neighboring houses (each according to its capacity,) 
were expected to furnish forth an unusual comple- 
ment of eligible men and distracting maids. 

The salient merit of a large house is that the 
60 


THE TANTALLON BALL. 


61 


most elaborate arrangements for entertaining may- 
take place without disturbing the normal harmony 
of everyday quiet and comfort. At Tantallon 
there was an enormous ballroom, with a musicians’ 
gallery at one end and an ante-chamber that did 
admirably as a supper buffet at the other, and so 
quietly, with such consummate ease and method, 
were the preparations carried out that any casual 
visitor might have come and gone in absolute 
ignorance of the approaching festivities. 

During the afternoon the men played lawn 
tennis or dawdled about the gardens. Jack Tan- 
tallon went a-fishing and in spite of the smoothest 
of water and hottest of suns thrashed the river 
vigorously all day long. His uncle’s note had an- 
noyed him. He bitterly resented the old man’s 
interference, and realized with angry impatience 
that his position at Tantallon was barely tenable. 

“ Matters were bad enough before,” he mut- 
tered to himself, as he flogged fruitlessly away, 
“ but now the}^ are ten times worse. Marie, of 
course, will think I am a party to his plans. I 
have a good mind to make a bolt.” 

It astonished him that his uncle, with all his 
knowledge of human nature, should have failed to 
discover the truth. Marie, he knew was no act- 
ress, and the ordeal must have been a trying one ; 
and yet she had succeeded completely in allaying 
the suspicions of one of the keenest and most 
acute of men. 


62 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


Finally the hard physical exercise had its usual 
effect on the nerves, and Jack walked home in a 
comparatively easy frame of mind. He found his 
servant laying out his clothes. This gentleman’s 
gentleman was somewhat privileged and Jack 
allowed him considerable latitude. 

“ Mr. McFee was with his lordship this after- 
noon,” said the valet. 

“ Who is Mr. McFee ? ” 

“ His lordship’s lawyer. His lordship made his 
will, sir.” 

“ How do 5"ou know?” asked Jack. 

“ It is all the talk of the room,” said the man 
apologetically. “ Mrs. Cummins and Mr. Puttick 
witnessed the will.” 

Jack made no reply. His curiosity was natur- 
ally aroused, but there being no means of gratify- 
ing it, he dismissed the subject from his mind and 
proceeded to dress. 

At ten o’clock the guests began to arrive and 
were received by the Earl in the great hall. It 
was a memorable scene. The black panelling of 
the walls made a perfect background for the diaph- 
anous laces and tulles of the ladies’ gowns. Hun- 
dreds of wax tapers shone brilliantly upon the 
dinted armor that, in days past, had done good 
service on many a stricken field. Here and there 
gleamed a priceless piece oi faience or the whitened 
skull and antlers of some long-dead monarch of 
the forest. From their heavy frames the stately 


THE TANTALLON BALL. 


63 


Lelys and Vandykes looked down with infinite 
sadness upon the gay laughing crowd beneath ; 
while above hung the groined and fretted roof 
veiled in luminous darkness. 

Lord Tantalloii stood in the centre of the room, 
the [)icture of a well-preserved courtly old gentle- 
man, and as little like the lean and slippered 
pantaloon as possible. People said afterward how 
well be seemed; the incarnation of a vigorous and 
green old age. Early in the evening he had told 
Jack that he expected him to open tlie hall with 
his cousin. The young man at first demurred. 

Why not dance the fii st quadrille with her 
yourself, uncle.” 

I am too old, mv boy, and too gouty, you must 
take my place. Make the most of your oppor- 
tunities,” he added in a low tone. 

But when Jack preferred his request, Marie 
shook her head. 

“ Yoii are too late; I have promised Alick the 
first dance.” 

Lord Tantallon, who overheard her, frowned. 

“ Nonsense, child,” he said sternly, ‘‘ there is an 
etiquette about these things. Your cousin Jack 
is the proper person. I insist upon your dancing 
with him.” 

He scowled savagely at Alick who came grace- 
fully forward and resigned his claim. 

“As the first is a duty dance,” said Jack, “I 
hope you will give me another.” 


64 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Of course I will,’* she replied with a slight blush. 
Her grandfather’s words were ringing in her ears — 
“ he loves you passionately.” To a girl fresh from 
the school-room there was a piquant novelty about 
being passionately loved that was not unpleasant. 
Most maidens keep a corner in their hearts for 
their love-lorn swains, sigh they never so vainly ; 
and Marie was no exception to this kindly rule. 

“ Do you know,” she said to him, as they sat 
together in a palm -sheltered alcove, after the first 
waltz, “ that you have never wished me many 
happy returns of the day.” 

It was true. Up-stairs, in a drawer, lay the 
present he had selected for her a month ago, but 
in the excitement of the last twenty-four hours he 
had forgotten all about it. Before he had time to 
make his excuses some man approached to solicit 
a dance and Tantallon was obliged to reserve his 
apologies and explanations until, at the dose of 
the evening, he found himself again alone with 
Marie. In the meantime he had fetched his offer- 
ing, a small moonstone surrounded with brilliants 
in the form of a tortoise. 

“ Better late than never,” he said, lamely. 

With a few graceful words of thanks she pinned 
it into her corsage and then looked at the donor 
with an amused smile. 

“ What an eccentric fellow you are. Jack. You 
buy me a most delightful present and then forget 
to give it me.” 


THE TANTALLON BALL. 


65 


Jack gazed at her with longing eyes. Excite- 
ment had lent an extraordinary brilliancy to her 
features. He felt ill at ease and awkward. 

“ I am playing Bottom to her Titania,” he 
thought, and cursed his unready tongue. 

At such moments men of his stamp not infre- 
quently lose their heads. The intensity of their 
emotion, coupled with a sense of unaccustomed 
mental prostration, makes them temporarily blind 
to the commonest dictates of tact and prudence. 

Marie,” he whispered hoarsely, “ there is 
method in my madness. If I have kept out of 
your sight it is because I dared not trust myself 
in it.” 

She looked in trembling silence at his troubled 
face. There was no doubt in her mind now that 
this man loved her — loved her as it is the lot of 
few women to be loved in these conventional latter 
days. She touched with her slender fingers his 
burning hand. 

“Don’t say any more,” she implored gently, “it 
is of no use — what you wish, dear Jack, can 
never be.” 

The tears were welling in pity from her eyes. 

“ I am too late,” he asked. 

Her averted head was sufficient answer. Tan- 
tallon rose to his feet. 

“ I will say good-bye,” he said unsteadily. 

Then before she could stay him, he bent down 
and put his arms round her. 

5 


66 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Good-bye, ray love,” he whispered, pressing 
his lips to her forehead — “ Good-bye.” 

He passed hurriedly down the long corridor and 
noted with some astonishment that it was deserted. 
Moreover that murmuring of many tongues, that 
hum of melodious nothings whispered into sympa- 
thetic ears, which, like Tennyson’s brook, goes on 
forever in the vicinity of a ballroom, had unac- 
countably ceased. 

At the end of the corridor he met a footman. 

“ I have been looking everywhere for you, 
sir,” gasped the man. 

“What has happened?” said Jack. 

“ My lord fell down in the ballroom not ten 
minutes ago. He had been complaining of the 
heat when he was took all of a sudden. I ’elped 
to carry his lordship to the library myself and 
’eard the doctor say it was all over.” 

“ Then he is dead,” said Jack solemnly. 

“ Yes, sir, my lord I mean, his lordship is 
dead.” 


CHAPTER X. 


CONTAINS A PROPOSAL. 

Early upon the second day following the death 
of Lord Tantallon Mrs. Carrick-Fergus sent for 
her son. She had assumed, with her well fitting 
sables, an expression of chastened sorrow that did 
credit to her powers as an actress, and which sat, 
as her mirror assured her, not unbecomingly upon 
her stern features. To a keen observer the sub- 
dued sparkle in her eyes betrayed a spirit of in- 
ward rejoicing sorely at variance with the outward 
trappings and gestures of woe. 

A lick carelessly kissed his mother, and then 
seated himself in the most comfortable chair in 
the room. 

“ Where is Marie ? ” asked Mrs. Carrick-Fer- 
gus. 

“She is in the garden.” 

“ Have you been with her ? ” 

“No — I saw her from the windows of the bil- 
liard room.” 

The mother looked moodily at her son ; his 
nonchalance irritated her. 

“ Are you certain of her ? ” she inquired in a 
low tone.. 


67 


68 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ As certain as one can be of anything,” he re- 
plied. 

“ She will be left the personalty and perhaps 
Tantallon.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ Alick yon must clinch matters before the will 
is read.” 

“ Do you mean that I should propose — now.” 

‘‘I do. Marie as the prospective heiress and 
Marie as the actual heiress are two very different 
persons.” 

“ It appears to me,” said Alick, “ a curious time 
to be speaking of marriage.” 

“ Of marriage — Yes. Of an engagement — No. 
Marie was fond of her grandfather, but in no 
sense devotedly attached to him. Nevertheless 
she must feel sorely lonely at the present moment, 
and any woman so circumstanced experiences the 
want of protection and consolation. Open your 
arms to her and she will gladly accept their shel- 
ter.” 

“You are sure the coin is all right?” 

“ Absolutely sure.” 

“ It will be an infernal bore,” yawned the young 
man, “ but needs must when the devil drives.” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus winced. She was a lady 
who preferred to call a spade a garden utensil. 
Plain-speaking was odious to her at any time, 
but especially when it placed her own conduct 
in a questionable light. She possessed the con- 


CONTAINS A PHOPOSAL. 


69 


venient habit of draping effectively every thought 
and action with a cloak of plausible and ostenta- 
tious Christianity. The phylacteries upon her 
mantle were broad, and she liked to display them. 
Women of her kidney live and die in the odor of 
simulated sanctity — a sanctity which they permit 
no one to impugn. 

“What do you mean?” she asked with asper- 
ity. “Do I understand you aright? Is this mar- 
riage distasteful ? ” 

Alick saw that he had gone too far. 

“ I spoke hastily, mother, and expressed myself 
badly. I meant to say that love-making at the 
present time would be melancholy work. I am 
most anxious that the marriage should take 
place.” 

“In that case,” replied Mrs. Carrick-Fergus, 
“ the sooner you speak to Marie the better.” 

He rose without another word and went to the 
door. 

“ I will propose at once,” he said gravely. 

The mother sat still with her hands folded and 
a curious expression upon her face. Insincere, 
selfish, luxurious and worldly, she yet possessed 
the redeeming virtue of dearly loving her son. 
For years she had labored to achieve a certain 
end which now seemed within her grasp. Would 
the will-o’-the-wisp of fortune elude her again as 
it had eluded her before? Her face grew hard 
and cold as she listened and waited for the return- 


70 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


ing footsteps of her son. The minutes dragged 
along their weary length, but she never moved. 
Twice the long hand of the clock made its cus- 
tomary circuit and then the door opened and 
Alick stood in the doorway. 

“ Well?” she queried. 

“ You can congratulate me,” he said with a 
smile. “Marie has accepted me.” 

The stern face relaxed. 

“ My dear boy, I do indeed wish you all happi- 
ness. God has granted m}^ prayers; may He 
bless and prosper you in your new life.” 

She spoke with so much feeling that she almost 
deceived her son, well as he knew her. 

“Poor mother,” he though V as he went down- 
stairs again, “ she hopes that God will prosper the 
marriage that she has brought about solely for the 
thousands that come with it. I wonder whether 
she really believes in the efficacy of prayer and 
the interposition of Providence. Bah ! of course 
not. She only, pretends like the rest of us. At 
heart she is agnostic, but she wouldn’t admit it 
even to me. Agnosticism — what a load of respon- 
sibility the very word takes off one’s shoulders. I 
know nothing except that I exist and must look 
after number one. I think,” he added with a 
chuckle, “ that I have looked after number one to 
some purpose.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


SURPRISE. 

There is always a certain excitement about 
the reading of a will — particularly the will of a 
wealthy man. Lazarus, although a one-and-twen- 
tieth cousin, humbly hopes that Dives has not en- 
tirely forgotten him : that some of the crumbs, if 
not an actual slice of the loaf, will fall to his 
share. For did not poor dear William once ask 
him for his photograph, and send him a hamper 
of game every other year? And surely such 
signs and tokens of esteem must be of testament- 
ary value. Then again there have been so many 
surprises in connection with wills. The expectant 
listener is prepared for anything. He recalls the 
story of the impecunious young man who on the 
threshold of his dead relative’s house offered to 
take five thousand pounds down for his prospect- 
ive share, and who half an hour later found him- 
self sole possessor of nearly two millions sterliug 1 
Why should not Fortune smile on him ? He as- 
sumes for the moment an air of importance andl 
lets his imagination run riot. A few minutes, 
later he realizes sadly how much wiser it would 

71 


72 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


have been to have remained quietly at home, and 
saved — his railway fare. 

Although the Tantallon family was not a large 
one there was nevertheless a considerable gather- 
ing in the library when Mr. McFee, of the firm 
McFee & McFee, Edinbro’, gravely placed his 
spectacles upon his long nose and broke the seals 
of his late noble client’s will. The company 
generally, with the exception of one or two dis- 
tant and unimportant relatives, was aware that 
Miss Tantallon was engaged to be married to the 
very good looking cousin now sitting compla- 
cently by her side, and, as cordially as the occa- 
sion permitted, had offered her their heartiest 
congratulations and best wishes for the future. 
Jack, — I beg his pardon — Lord Tantallon sat in a 
huge arm-chair with his eyes glued to the Turkey 
carpet. Of those present he probably was the 
least interested in what was coming. The cer- 
tainty of unlimited wealth would have failed to 
lay the ghost of his unfortunate passion, and the 
prospect of absolute penury would have been ac- 
cepted without a murmur on Rochefoucauld’s 
principle that the smaller misfortune is swallowed 
up in the greater. 

The unimportant cousins nudged each other. 

“Jack,” whispered one, “seems rather down in 
the mouth ; I suppose he knows that the Castle 
has been left away from the title.” 

“ Devilish hard luck if it is ! ” said the other. 


SUBPBISE. 


73 


“ Hush ; the old Johnnie is going to begin. 
That sherry lias flown to his venerable head. He 
looks quite nervous.” 

Mr. McFee gave a preliminary ahem. 

‘‘ Before I read the will,” he said slowly, “ I 
have a remark to make. Some of you may not 
be aware that it was signed the day of my late 
client’s decease. Moreover I am in a position to 
say that the provisions of the will were drawn in 
view of a certain contingency that his lordship 
feared might arise, and which I understand has 
since come to pass.” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus looked uneasily at her son, 
and turned restlessly in her chair. 

Then without further preamble the lawyer 
•opened, smoothed and read the will from begin- 
ning to end. It was simplicity itself. With the 
exception of a few legacies to servants and a 
sum of twenty thousand pounds to his grand- 
daughter, everything was left unconditionally to 
Jack Tantallon ; “and I desire,” so ran the words 
of the will, “that the enclosed letter may be 
given to him and read aloud in the presence of 
my grand-daughter, my niece, Mrs. Carrick- 
Fergus, her son Alexander Carrick-Fergus and 
Mr. McFee.” 

“ This,” said the lawyer, “ is the letter.” 

He handed it to Jack who hurriedly broke the 
seal and glanced at the contents. Mrs. Carrick- 
Fergus, very pale but composed, approached him. 


74 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“We can go into the small library,” she wliis- 
pered. 

“Yes,” he answered, mechanically. Then he 
turned to the lawyer and took him aside. 

“ You should have prepared me for this,” he 
said, sternly. 

“ I acted, my lord, under your late uncle’s most 
explicit commands. He made a point of my 
keeping you in absolute ignorance until now. I 
am ready to admit that my silence has placed 
your lordship in an embarrassing position, but,” 
he added in a deprecating tone, “ no other course 
as a man of honor was open to me.” 

“ I think,” said Jack, “ that I shall ask Miss- 
Tantallon to absent herself.” 

He crossed the room and took Marie’s hand. 

“Dear Marie,” he said, gently, “it will be better 
for you to go to your own room. You can see 
this letter, if you wish to see it — later.” 

“No,” replied Marie, decidedly, “if there is any- 
thing disagreeable coming the sooner I hear it 
the less anxiety I shall have. I will remain.” 
Then she sank her voice to a whisper — “ I am 
heartily glad you have the place and the money 
to keep it up. I have quite sufficient of my own 
and I know that it will make little or no differ- 
ence to Alick. He told me the other day that he 
looked upon wealth as a disagreeable responsi- 
bility.” 

She called her lover to her side. 


SUEPRISE. 


75 


‘‘I know,” she said, unaffectedly, “that you 
wiU join with me,’ Alick, in congratulating Jack.” 

“ 1 think,” said Alick angnly, “ that you liave 
been disgracefully treated.” 

“No indeed,” she replied, “I asked grandpapa 
to leave everything to Jack. What was the use 
of giving him this huge property with no money 
to keep it going ? ” 

“ The will should be disputed,” said her lover. 

Jack turned upon his heel. 

“We will go into the small library,” he said, 
curtly, “and read this letter.” 

When they were alone he handed it to Mr. 
McFee. 

“ My dear Jack: — ” (it began) “ When I wrote 
to you last night I was in ignorance of certain facts 
that have since come to my notice — T say ad- 
visedly ‘ facts ’ but I am, unfortunately, not in a 
position to prove them as such. I have been de- 
ceived and hoodwinked, not only by my grand- 
daughter, who, on account of her youth and in- 
experience is innocent in the matter, but by your 
cousin Alick, who has behaved I am convinced 
most dishonorably.” 

Alick sprang to his feet. 

“ Am I to sit here and listen to this sort of 
thing ? ” 

“That,” replied Jack, “is as you please.” 

Marie put her hand upon his arm. 


76 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Dear Alick,” she entreated, “ there has beeir 
some dreadful mistake. Stop here if only for my 
sake.” 

He resumed his seat sulkily, and Mr. McFee- 
continued. 

“ About a week or ten days ago I noticed that 
he was paying undue attention to Marie, espe- 
cially, mark you, when my back was turned. I 
naturally resented this as I had other views for 
her of which both he and his mother were well 
aware. Accordingly I sent for him and taxed 
him openly with a want of good faith. He indig- 
nantly repudiated, and with much plausibility 
succeeded in allaying my suspicions. Before he 
left the room he pledged me his sacred honor tiiat 
no word of love should pass his lips while under 
my roof.” 

“ His death released me from my promise,” said 
Alick. 

“ I have no proof that he broke his word accord- 
ing to the letter but I do know positively that he- 
outraged the spirit of it and succeeded in entirely 
winning Marie’s affections.” 

‘‘How could he possibly know that?” asked 
Mrs. Carrick-Fergus. 

“ I made this surprising discovery this morning, 
and by the merest chance. If Marie will recall 
what she was doing in the drawing-room at ten 
o’clock this morning, when she believed herself to- 


SURPRISE. 


77 


be entirely alone, she will understand to what I 
refer.” 

Mr. McFee paused and the eyes of all were 
turned upon Marie. For the moment she sat 
amazed, then she covered her face with her hands 
while a burning blush spread to the tips of her 
ears. 

“Can you unravel this mystery, Marie ? ” said 
Mrs. Carrick-Fergus tartly. “In the interests of 
my son’s honor some explanation should be forth- 
coming.” 

Marie raised her head. 

“ I will explain,” she said proudly, “ at the 
proper time and to the proper person — Alick. 
Please continue Mr. McFee.” 

The lawyer took up the letter again. 

“ I have little more to say : Marie will always 
have a competence. Fifteen hundred a year is 
sufficient provision for any woman; and if Alick 
really loves her, a magnificent dowry in compari- 
son with his means. And now, my dear Jack, 
good-bye — when you read these words I shall 
have solved the problem. I shall know perhaps if 
I have acted wisely or not. There remains one 
word of advice — the epitome of over eighty years 
experience. Use your own judgment and face 
your responsibilities. No man can do more. 

Your affectionate uncle, 

Tantallon.” 


78 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ That is all,” said Mr. McFee as he returned 
the letter to Jack. 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus drew the lawyer aside. 

“ You consider my uncle was perfectly sane 
when he signed this iniquitous will? ” 

“ As sane, my dear madam as you or I am.” 

“ It ought to be contested.” 

“ Not a jury in th-e United Kingdom would set 
it aside.” 

“We shall see,” said the lady bitterly. 

“ Moreover,” added Mr. McFee calmly, “ if I 
understand the case. Miss Tantallon, the only 
principal concerned, is perfectly willing to abide 
by its provisions.” 

She vouchsafed him a contemptuous shrug of 
her shoulder and left the room. 

The lawyer and Lord Tantallon went back into 
the main library and left Marie with her lover. 

“ It does not make any difference, does it, 
Alick?” 

He looked at her sweet upturned face. After 
all she had fifteen hundred a year. 

“Not a bit of difference,” he answered in his 
soft tones, “in my love for you, Marie; but your 
grandfather has treated you shamefully. Tell me, 
dearest, what were you doing in the red drawing- 
room ? ” 

She hung her head in confusion. 

I was kissing your photograph,” she answered 
with a nervous laugh, “ and he must have seen 


SUBPBISE. 


79 


me. It was a ridiculous thing to do was it 
not?” 

“ It has cost us about half a million,” he replied 
gloomily. She looked at liim askance. The an- 
swer jarred upon her. 

“ Perhaps,” she said proudly, “ you don’t want 
me without the half million.” 

‘‘ Nonsense,” he replied sharply, “ my regrets 
are solely on your account.” 

His manner, rather than his words, chilled and 
repelled her. She was totally unversed in the 
ways of men ; but lier woman’s instinct told her 
that here something was wrong. It was the first 
rift within the lute, and she noted with dismay 
that the accustomed music of her lover’s voice had 
lost its charm. 

Come into the garden,” she said presently, 
after an awkward pause of a few seconds, “ the at- 
mosphere here is stifling.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


AN UNHAPPY NOBLEMAN. 

A FEW days after the funeral Jack Tantal- 
lon went up to town. It had been settled that 
Marie should remain at the Castle under the 
protecting wing of Mrs. Carrick-Fergus until 
after her marriage, which was arranged to take 
place in the following February. Jack, after pay- 
ing Alick’s debts and presenting Marie with a 
munificent check for her trousseau, came to the 
conclusion that the best thing he could do was to 
place as many miles of salt water between himself 
and the lovers as he possibly could. He made up 
his mind that he would travel for a year at the 
least ; after that he would settle down and en- 
deavor to carry out his uncle’s instructions. 

Before his departure he urged upon Marie the 
acceptance of a large portion of the late Earl’s 
personalty, but in spite of Alick's prayers and al- 
most threats she positively refused to touch a 
penny beyond what was legally her own. 

“ It is no use,” she insisted, “ it is no use your 
talking a lot of nonsense about justice and so forth. 
My mind is made up. I won’t receive charity even 
from you, dear Jack : so say no more about it. I 
80 


AN UNHAPPY NOBLEMAN 


81 


am passing rich with my fifteen hundred a year, 
and I don’t envy you your millions at all. As the 
head of the family I will graciously permit you to 
pay for my trousseau, but nothing more.” 

Jack accordingly packed up his guns and fishing 
rods and betook himself to his chambers at the 
Albany. The afternoon of his arrival as he was 
strolling down Bond Street, whom should he meet 
but Lady Biddulph. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” she asked, after 
the first greetings. 

“ I am going to America to shoot a grizzly.” 

“ I hope you are not going to turn into a bear 
yourself, Jack.” 

Tantallon laughed and shook his head. 

“What are you doing in town at this time of 
year ? ” “ Something has gone wrong with Dick’s 

guns. You must dine with us this evening; a de- 
lightful American is coming and you will be able 
to talk with him about bears and wapiti.” 

“ 1 shall be very glad,” said Jack. “ What is 
your delightful American’s name ? ” 

“ Britton.” 

“ The Mr. Brittom. 

“ Yes, the millionaire. He is so rich that he is 
quite unhappy about it.” 

Accordingly at five minutes to eight Jack hailed 
a passing hansom and was speedily whirled to 
Grosvenor Place. 

In the drawing-room he found his two friends, 
6 


82 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHmi. 


and a tall slender stranger who was introduced to 
him as Mr. Britton. He was well but quietly 
dressed, with a rare orchid in his buttonhole and 
a general air of good breeding. 

“ He says he is a Californian,” cried Lady Bid- 
dulph, as the two men shook hands, “but I don’t 
believe it. He is disappointingly civilized. There 
is absolutely no savor of the wild and woolly west 
about him.” 

The American laughed pleasantly. 

“ Mr. Poole,” he said, “ has evidently not labored 
in vain.” 

Jack liked his voice : it was keen and incisive 
with a slight accent, or rathifer intonation that was 
not unpleasant. 

“ I am glad to know you,” said Tantallon with 
English abruptness. “But I shall bore you to 
death with questions about America.” 

“ It is the mission of the innocent American 
abroad — to ask and answer questions.” 

Then, they went in to dinner and Jack in particu- 
lar was even more cheery than usual, and appar- 
ently in boisterous spirits. Mr. Britton looked at 
him with increasing interest and liking, as course 
succeeded course. His experience of young En- 
glishmen had not been a happy one. He had found 
them narrow-minded, dull, and often rude. Not 
being a sportsman, he had failed to appreciate John 
Bull, junior, who, to do him justice, is the best of 
good fellows when he likes you, but devilish disa- 


AN UNHAPPY NOBLEMAN 


83 


greeable when he doesn’t. Mr. Bi-itton was one of 
those beniglited and mistaken foreigners wlio think 
a horse and hound of secondary importance in the 
scale of creation. He had seen many people and 
many lands, and was in effect a cosmopolitan of the 
best and most cultured kind. 'From his point of 
view (a comfortable front seat) the world was a 
stage, and life a drama of absorbing interest. The 
commonplace had few charms for him, but the ab- 
normal always enchained his attention. He had 
been quick to note that this sturdy, sunny-faced 
young nobleman, with his gay but forced laugh, and 
pleasant manners, might prove from the psy- 
chological standpoint a profitable study. He drew 
him out with the subtle tact of a thorough man-of- 
the-world. 

“Women,” cried Jack, in answer to a remark 
concerning the curious customs of the South Sea 
Islanders, “ women are the same everywhere. The 
Tahitian with her garlands of flowers and the 
London girl in her ball dress differ only in the 
color of their skins and the length of their skirts. 
Witli all of them it is a question of ^chiffons;' 
they judge entirely by appearances.” 

“ We have a different opinion of our women in 
America,” said Britton gravely ; “ we give them 
credit for all the senses with the sixth sense — in- 
tuition — thrown in. It is my experience,” he 
added, “ that women, as a rule, are less deceived 
by appearances than men.” 


84 


THE EOMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ You have been lucky,” said Jack. 

“The fox,” thought the American, “that is 
gnawing at his vitals is of the feminine gender.” 
He tried another tack. 

“ Do you know many people in America, Lord 
Taiitallon ? ” 

“ Not a soul,” said Jack, “that is why I am go- 
ing there.” 

“ 111 that case, I presume you will leave your 
title behind ? ” 

“ I had not thought of doing so. Why ? ” 

“ My countrymen, remember, are Anglo-Saxon ; 
they dearly love a lord. As an English gentle- 
man you will be let alone ; as an English noble- 
man you will be surfeited with attentions and 
every reporter in the States will want your opin- 
ion upon every conceivable question from the 
abolishing of the House of Peers to the Behring 
Sea fisheries. You will be expected to drink an 
enormous quantity of mixed drinks. You will be 
flooded with cocktails and drowned with juleps.” 

“I shall try and stand that,” said Tantallon. 
“My experience of American drinks has been 
limited, but entirely satisfactory. The interview- 
ing I should certainly object to.” 

“ You will have to go back to Magnall’s ques- 
tions,” said Lady Biddulph. “What an ency- 
clopedia you will be when you return.” 

“Jack will write his ‘ impressions,’ ” said Lord 
Biddulph. 


AN UNHAPPY NOBLEMAN 


85 


“If you do,” said Britton, ‘‘bear this in mind ; 
the conditions here and the conditions there are 
entirely different. In England the upper class is 
a law not only to itself, but also to all classes be- 
neath it : a law which your masses are generally 
ready to obey and observe. In America, on the 
contrary, the leisure and cultured class is in a 
hopeless minority ; and the working masses not 
only have the upper hand in politics but in mat- 
ters social as well. We have, however, this ad- 
vantage over you ; our ‘ great unwashed ’ are a 
long way ahead of yours ; they are gradually but 
surely working out their own salvation. A few 
more decades and they will have almost eliminated 
dirt and ignorance. I put dirt first,” he added 
with a laugh, “ because I believe there is more 
civilization in a cake of soap and a bucket of hot 
water than in all the text-books in the world. 
Pears has done more for the nineteenth century 
than has Herbert Spencer.” 

“ You would build a bathroom before a li- 
brary?” laughed Lady Biddulph. 

“I most assuredly should,” said Britton. 

“ When you write your book. Jack, you can 
embody Mr. Britton’s views on this subject.” 

“ I shall go down to posterity as the one man of 
my generation who never wrote a book. What a 
reward will be mine.” 

“ I think,” said Britton, slowly, “ that Lord Tan- 
tallon had better come to America with me. I 


86 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


am going to take my yacht round the Horn and I 
promise to land him safe and sound in San Fran- 
cisco. We shall stop at the West Indies and 
Buenos Ayres, so if he gets tired of me he can 
easily rid himself of my company.” 

Britton was a man of impulse : he had found 
after many years experience that his impulse sel- 
dom led him astray. 

Tantallon hesitated ; then he stretched out his 
hand. 

“ Do you mean it? ” 

“ I do.” 

“ Then I accept.” 

“ We shall be quite alone.” 

“ The prospect does not horrify me, Mr. Brit- 
ton.” 

“ You can shoot your grizzly when you get to 
California : the true grizzly is not to be found in 
the Rocky Mountains, only a first cousin of his, 
the silver tip.” 

And thus, without more ado the matter was 
settled. If anyone had told Britton as he dressed 
for dinner that, before the evening was out, he 
would have asked an absolute stranger to accom- 
pany him during a voyage round the Horn he 
would have ridiculed the idea as absurd and im- 
practicable : and yet, within a couple of hours, he 
had pledged himself to a solitude d deux for three 
months with a man of whom he knew next to 
nothing. Lady Biddulph had told him that Jack 


AN UNHAPPY NOBLEMAN 


87 


had been very poor whereas now he was very 
rich : he guessed too from our hero’s manner that 
for some reason his naturally sunny temperament 
had been soured, the malefic cause — a woman. 
Nothing extraordinary in two such commonplace 
facts; but in addition there was Tantallon’s person- 
ality, almost magnetic in its attractiveness. Brit- 
ton was a man of few friends but wide sympath- 
ies. His great wealth had cut him off from the 
common herd, and, like most rich men, he had a 
morbid dread of being sought after for his money 
bags rather than for himself. Like most rich men, 
also, he was in the habit of having his own way, 
no matter where it led him. He had taken a sud- 
den fancy to Tanlallon and Tantallon had appar- 
ently taken a fancy to him. Nothing more was to 
be said. 



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BOOK 11. 


CHAPTER I. 

SAN FRANCISCO. 

“ That,” said Britton, “ is Nob Hill.” He and 
Tantallon were standing upon the bridge of the 
“ Hex” as she steamed slowly through the Golden 
Gate. “ And that white house near the summit 
is mine.” 

“ What a magnificent view you must have from 
jour windows. I had no idea San Francisco was 
so beautifully situated.” 

“We are very proud of our location, I can 
assure you. That is Mount Tamalpais, half 
wreathed in mist as usual.” 

“ You Californians are lucky people. Does your 
bay always look like this ? ” 

“ Not always ; w^e have a good deal of fog in 
summer : but take it all round I wouldn’t ex- 
change it for any other bay in the world.” 

“ It is perfectly beautiful to-day, Britton.” 

They stood in silence, side-by-side, and gazed 
across the shimmering expanse of sea. The opal- 
tinted morning mist still hung round the edge of 

89 


90 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETOHUM. 


the city, and obscured the crudity of the water 
front ; but above, all was clear as noonday. The 
sky, with its paling stars, rivaled the turquoise in 
the richness of its hues : while the mountains that 
fringed the horizon were the color of amethyst. 
The sun had just risen, and hung, like a ball of 
molten metal in the eastern heavens, its reflection 
faithfully mirrored in the oily waters. There were 
no waves, nor even ripples, but a rhythmical swell 
from the Pacific that reminded one dreamily of 
the roaring surges now hushed to sleep. 

The two men were speechless with the splendor 
of the scene. Britton was the first to break the 
silence. 

“ The voyage is over,” he said, regretfully. 

“ It is over,” repeated Jack, mechanically. 

“You are glad you came with me, old fel- 
low?” 

“ Glad is too tame a word. I left England out 
of tune with myself and all the world ; a bad case 
of mental anaemia. Thanks to you I am a new 
man. A Englishman is not a demonstrative an- 
imal ; and he finds it precious hard work to give 
his emotion words. The more grateful he is the 
less he says about it ; but I owe you more than I 
ever can repay.” 

“Nonsense,” said the American. “You saved 
my life, remember, at the risk of your own. 
When it comes to gratitude the account is 
against me.” 


SAN NRANCISCO. 


91 


“ I am glad I fished you out of that beastly 
harbor ; it was the best action of my life.” 

It had happened at Kingston, Jamaica. The 
yacht was anchored ; and a stout line was out astern 
with a tempting piece of junk stuck on the barbs 
of a large hook. Britton was sitting carelessly 
upon the taffrail, lazily smoking a cigarette, and 
watching the big sharks swimming to and fro. Sud- 
denly an unusually severe roll caused him to lose 
his balance. Before he could stretch out an arm 
he was overboard with half a dozen hungry man- 
oaters within twenty yards of him. Tantallon, 
knowing that his friend could not swim a stroke, 
leaped after him and succeeded in keeping him 
afloat until assistance was rendered. From start 
to finish they were not more than five minutes in 
the water, but it seemed to them an aeon of 
torture. Safely aboard the yacht they had gone 
to their respective cabins to change their clothes. 
Hardly a word was exchanged on either side but 
there was a look in Britton’s eyes that Tantallon 
• remembered to his dying day. 

From that hour the two men had become fast 
friends. Jack opened his heart unreservedly to 
his companion — told him the story of his unfor- 
tunate wooing. Britton listened with the keenest 
sympathy, and thereafter gave the whole strengtli 
of his mind to the task of effacing the memories 
of his preserver’s past. His efforts were not in 
vain. He saw that Tantallon had suffered deeply 


92 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


and he knew that the only antidote for his dis- 
ease would be hard mental work upon a con- 
genial theme. To effect a radical cure, more than 
mere change of scene was necessary. With in- 
finite tact he suggested to his friend the possibil- 
ities and duties that awaited him in the years ta 
come. Britton was no metaphysical splitter of 
straws, but a philosopher in the best sense of the 
term. He had studied human nature from the 
life, and he brought to his favorite subject the 
temperate mind of the scholar and the zeal of an 
enthusiast. Under the clear light of his intellect 
the dryest and most intricate of theories became 
lucid, and the problem of life seemed no longer 
complex. 

Nevertheless as they lingered in Central Amer- 
ica, Tantallon grew impatient. 

“ I feel,” he said to Britton after a drive through 
the gorgeous tropical forests of Nicaragua, “ I feel 
that I ought to be up and doing. This sensuous, 
lotos-eating life is too oppressive.” 

“ I find it so myself,” replied the American y 
“ we will sail for the north to-morrow.” 

He knew then that the cure was complete. 

“ Tell me,” said Jack, a few days later, “ are 
these opinions your own or the generally recog- 
nized sentiment of the average American?” 

Britton had been holding forth on his favorite 
theme, social ethics. 

“ I don’t want to make comparisons,” he an- 


SAN FRANCISCO. 


93 


swered, “ but there is no doubt that public senti- 
ment in the States is dead against what you call 
in England a leisure class. We not only don't en- 
courage drones in the hive, but we call them bad 
names such as dudes and deadheads. Our wealth- 
iest men work the hardest. Take myself for in- 
stance ; in San Francisco I spend eight hours out 
of the twenty-four at my office.” 

“ Our rich men have to work too, over the 
cares of a big estate.” 

“ Cares which nine out of ten relegate entirely 
to a land agent, just as they hand over their vested 
interests to the family lawyer. No, no, my dear 
Jack, be honest — the average English gentleman 
only plays at working. There are exceptions of 
course but the majority amuse themselves.” 

Tantallon laughed. 

“ The fact is,” proceeded Britton, “ Europeans 
can learn more from Americans than Americans 
can learn from them. Of course you Englishmen 
do not think so ; you are born with such an over- 
weening sense of your own importance both in 
this world and the next that you would be drawn 
and quartered rather than admit the truth of my 
assertions.” 

“ If all Americans are like you,” replied Tan- 
tallon,'“ I admit it frankly.” 

“I don’t say they are. I have had opportuni- 
ties of acquiring a certain polish without which 
no man, short of the Shah of Persia, is tolerated 


94 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


or received in good European society. That 
polish Uncle Sam rarely gets until he travels and 
sees the world. Moreover, even when we know 
what it is, we don’t assign the value to it that you 
do in England. We regard it as an agreeable 
varnish, but nothing more. Apart from this varn- 
ish the average American is a better and more 
useful man than the average Englishman. He 
makes a more considerate husband, a more tender 
father, and a more active and energetic citizen. 
He is not only well up in the history of his own 
country, but he also reads and discusses the his- 
tory and policy of the great European powers. 
He has intelligent views upon the burning ques- 
tions of the day ; he is broader minded, more open 
to conviction, and more ready to welcome and 
adopt reform in any guise.” 

“ You are a good advocate,” said Tantallon. 

“ I am a good citizen, and I am proud of my 
country. The idiotic questions that are put to 
one when travelling in England by educated and 
cultured men are most annoying and irritating. 
You know B ? ” 

He named a prominent member of the Tory 
party. 

“ I have met him.” 

“He asked me the other day if Califorina did 
not belong to Mexico. What would you think 
of an American who asked you if Ceylon did not 
belong to Russia ? ” 


SAN FRANCISCO. 


Jack held his tongue. 

“ You know Lady H ? ” Lady H., was one of 
the few remaining grandes dames. 

“ Intimately.” 

“ She asked me if it was really true that Ameri- 
cans had to send to England for their clothes ! ” 

“ She was chaffing you, Henry.” 

“ Not a bit of it, she was perfectly serious.” 

“ What did you say ? ” 

“ I told her that she had been rightly informed, 
and that outside of the big towns men and wo- 
men went about in paint and blankets.” 

This was one of many conversations. Tantal- 
lon always took up the cudgels in defence of his 
native land ; but he was no match for his friend 
when it came to argument. Nevertheless his 
curiosity was stimulated and aroused. He was 
too thorough an Englishmen himself, not to re- 
spect and admire his friend's patriotism. 

It had been arranged that he should spend a 
fortnight at Britton’s house and see what was to 
be seen of San Francisco and its cosmopolitan 
society. 

“ You may prepare yourself for a lively time,” 
said Britton. “We celebrate the New Year in 
great style I can assure you.” 

“I am looking forward to the fun, Henry.” 

“ I thought that you left England with the sole 
intention of getting away from the trammels of 
society.” 


96 


THE R03IANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 


‘‘ After a voyage round Cape Horn one may be 
permitted to change one’s mind, 1 suppose.” 

“ Certainly ; I only hope you won't change in 
any other way.” 

“ In what way? ” 

“ The San Francisco girls might induce you to 
change your state of single blessedness — for in- 
stance.” 

The cheeriness died out of the young man’s 
face. 

“Look here, Britton,” he said harshly, “don’t 
joke on that subject.” 

“ You are still sore, Jack? ” 

“ I am still sore, Henry ! — and shall be as long 
as I live. Thanks to you I can still take a bright 
view of things and enjoy myself, but there is a 
page of my life turned down. You are too good 
a fellow not to respect it.” 


CHAPTER II. 


A E ELAPSE. 

The Britton mansion, or as the San Franciscans 
called it “ Britton’s Folly,” had been built early 
in the seventies by the present owner’s father. It 
was an extraordinary jumble of different styles of 
architecture, but on the whole pleasing to the un- 
educated eye. Bow-windows, bay-windows, oriel 
windows, porticos, Dutch roofs and Italian loggias 
were piled together in amusing and bewildering 
confusion. But, with ail its inconsistencies, it 
possessed this cardinal merit : whatever might be 
said of its florid exterior, the inside was the per- 
fection of comfort, above and beyond cavil or 
criticism. The rooms were nobly proportioned 
and admirably lighted. The furniture was in the 
best of taste ; the pictures, gems of the modern 
French and English schools, and the conserva- 
tory one of the flnest in the world. Old Mr. Britton 
had come to California in ’51. His wife, one of 
the Suydams of New York, accompanied him, but 
died within the 3'ear in giving birth to her first 
child. From that hour, the bereaved husband 
turned his entire attention to the ever-increasing 
cares of his business. The boy, Henry, was sent 
7 97 


98 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


east to his maternal grandmother, and he remained 
in her care for the first twenty-one years of his 
life. When he left Harvard, his father sent for 
him, and gave him a desk in his bank. The 
young man applied himself diligently to the task 
of mastering his business, and before he was 
twenty-five became his father’s partner. Ten 
years later the old man died and Britton found 
himself one of the richest men in the world. He 
was now thirty-eight — and a confirmed bachelor. 
Mammas on both sides of the Atlantic had angled 
for him in vain. The prettiest girls at Newport 
and at Cowes set their caps at him, and looked 
unutterable things from under the shadow of their 
sunshades : but he paid no heed to the eyes of the 
charmers, and treated their owners all alike — with 
courtesy and consideration, but with undeniable 
coldness. 

“ There is a mystery about that man,” said a 
lynx-eyed old dowager one day at a Marlborough 
House garden party, ‘‘there is a mystery about 
him. Mark my words, my dear, and remember 
them.” 

He is very kind,” said her daughter. 

“ Kind — rich men can always be kind. It costs 
them nothing. Why does he not marry ? ” 

“ If I were a rich millionaire, mamma, it would 
be the very last thing I should think of doing.” 

“ He has a skeleton in his closet. One of these 
days it will pop out — skeletons always do.” 


A RELAPSE. 


99 


But hitherto the skeleton, if skeleton there 
were, was kept carefully closeted. In San Fran- 
cisco, where Henry had spent so many years of his 
life, there was not a whisper against his good 
name. 

Tantallon once had broached the subject on 
board the yacht. 

“ You ought to marry, Henry.” 

I am quite satisfied with my present condi- 
tion.” 

Marriage is a good thing for a man.” 

It is a devilish, a damnable thing, nine times 
out of ten.” 

There are happy marriages, Henry.” 

“If you find the right woman — yes.” 

“ You have never found her. . . eh?” 

“ I have never found her,” he replied, coldly. 

Tantallon had a pleasant suite of rooms assigned 
to him on the southern side of the house. Upon 
the writing-table he found some -letters, and among 
tliem one from Lady Biddulph. He hastily tore it 
open. 

“ Dear Jack ; ” it commenced, “ I am writing to 
you as I promised, but I have not much to tell. 
I met your two cousins only last week. He was 
very attentive, and she, as she always is, simply 
charming. There was a knot of men round her 
and she was apparently in the best of spirits. 
Mrs. Carrick-Fergus told me, with wreathed 


100 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

smiles, that the ‘young people ’ were as happy as 
the day was long: this very original remark 
struck me as singularly mal-d-propos as the sun- 
now sets at four. 1 had a few words with Marie 
and your name was mentioned. She spoke of 
you with much feeling, but said nothing about 
herself. I call that a bad sign. I asked her if 
the date of the marriage had been definitely set- 
tled and she replied quite carelessly that it would 
take place ‘sometime in February,’ her interest 

in the subject seemed less than mine. . 

Dick misses 3^ou a good deal ; and has actually 
put off shooting the home covers until after the 
New Year, in the hope that you may be back by 
then. He won’t allow me to send my love to you, 
so I shall send a grain of comfort instead. I still 
believe in spite of appearances that this hateful 
marriage will never take place. I have no reason 
save a woman’s reason : I think it so because I 
think it so. Give my kindest regards to Mr. 
Britton. You can send me some canvas-backs 
from New York when you get there. 

Yours very sincerely, 

Bessie Biddulph.” 

When Britton came into the librar}^ he found 
Tantallon sitting over the fire with this letter in 
his hand. 

“ Read that, Henry, and tell me what you 
think.” 


A Ji EL APSE. 


101 


“ I think,” said Britton, after he had read the 
letter, “ that you will be very foolish if you weave 
ropes out of such sand as this. With a woman 
the wish is always father to the thought. I am 
surprised that a person of Lady Biddulph’s sense 
should raise hopes that will probably never be 
realized.” 

He took up the poker and made a vigorous on- 
slaught on the glowing logs. 

“ Confound women ! ” he said, with emphasis, 
“they can never leave well alone.” 

Tantallon looked at him in surprise. 

“What is the matter, old chap? You seem 
hot.” 

“ I am hot,” replied Britton ; “ I can see plainly 
that this letter will undo the work of the last four 
months. There is no such folly in the world as 
resurrecting dead hopes. You are a man of strong 
passions : you rush headlong where other men 
crawl. This business came nearer to wrecking 
you body and soul than you think. That even- 
ing when we dined in Grosvenor Place I diagnosed 
your symptoms pretty accurately. You were on 
the eve of going to the dogs — and for what ? — a 
charming face — a slender form ” 

“For more than that,” cried Jack, “for the 
sweetest girl that breathes.” 

“ And hardly out of the school room. Why 
man, you have had a providential escape. You 
are as free as air and have the whole world before 


102 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

you. If there is anything in the adage that a 
burnt child dreads the fire, for God’s sake destroy 
this letter and forget all about it.” 

Tantallon shook his head and put the letter 
back into his pocket. 

“ What makes you so down upon women?” he 
asked, with his eyes fixed upon his friend. 

Britton drew a deep breath. 

“ It is a long story,” he said, wearily, “ but I 
will tell it you. It may serve as a warning. No- 
body knows my secret. My grandmother was in 
my confidence but she is now dead.” 

He did not commence for a few minutes, but 
sat, with his head leaning upon his hands, gazing 
at the fire. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE STORY OF A SELF-CONTAINED MAN. 

“ After I left Harvard,” he began, “ I fell in 
love — ^just as you did. I had the disease in its 
worst form. Some men walk into an attachment 
as they step into a hot bath— one foot at a time- 
gingerly. It was not so with you, Jack, and it was 
not so with me. I loved the girl so desperately 
that I committed the irretrievable folly of marry- 
ing her secretly, without the knowledge of my 
people.” 

‘‘You married her?” ejaculated Tantallon. 

“ I married her. She was the prettiest, most 
innocent child imaginable; and I, fool that I was, 
supposed her perfect. She had eyes, Jack, that 
seemed the very windows of a faithful, loving 
soul : the spirit of truth shone eternally in their 
depths. To me she appeared the breathing incar- 
nation of all that is best and purest in woman- 
hood. She was below me in station, and I knew 
if I went to my grandmother and tried to enlist 
her sympathies she would never rest till she had 
separated us. I did not fear for myself ; but 1 
dreaded the result of my grandmother’s eloquence 
on the weaker vessel. She was barely eighteen,. 

103 


104 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


unversed as I thought in the ways of the world. 
To expose her to the envenomed tongue of a 
clever woman would, I felt assured, be absolute 
ruin to my hopes. I accordingly made my ar- 
rangements and married her under an assumed 
name- We spent our honeymoon on the Hudson. 
My people supposed I was fishing and sketching. 
When it was time to return to my grandmother’s 
I left her in a comfortable house near the village 
of Tarrytown, about thirty miles from New York, 
and visited her whenever I could.” 

“ Did she know your true name ? ” 

“ She did not. I kept her in ignorance of it for 
fear of hurting her feelings by supposing that I 
was ashamed of our marriage. She knew that I 
had plenty of money, but nothing more. One 
night I visited her unexpectedly. It was late — 
but there was a light burning in her room. I 
opened the front door with my latch-key and went 
quietly up-stairs intending to surprise her.” 

Britton stopped for a moment and walked across 
the room to an old oak buffet. With a trembling 
hand he unlocked it, took a bottle, poured himself 
out a glass of brandy and tossed it off. Tantallon 
sat motionless in his chair. 

“ Look at my condition,” cried Britton, his 
features working convulsively. “ This happened 
twenty years ago and the mere memory of it un- 
mans me.” 

He sat down and proceeded. 


THE STORY OF A SELF-CONTAINED MAN. 105 


“ When I reached the landing I heard voices. 
I hesitated a moment and then stepped noiselessly 
into the shadow of the wall. The bedroom door 
was ajar and from where I stood I could see my 
wife. A man was with her. The light shone full 
on his features. To my astonishment he appeared 
middle-aged, thirty -five or forty at the least. A 
tall, handsome, powerful fellow, with most remark- 
able . eyes, eyes that one could never forget : a 
bright glittering blue, not unlike yours. Jack. He 
was dressed as an artisan, in rough dirty clothes, 
and I could tell from the tone of his voice and his 
accent that he was without either refinement or 
oducation. She had her arms round his neck and 
they were laughing and kissing each other. I 
watched them for nearly ten minutes with all the 
devils in hell gnawing at my heart. Then I 
caught the sound of my own name, my assumed 
name. They were making merry over it. Think 
of it, after the love I had lavished on her ! She 
laughed as if it were the best joke in the world.” 

Britton paused and Tantallon crossed over and 
took his hand. 

“ My dear Henry,” he said, his voice vibrating 
with sympathy, “ for pity’s sake be silent, don’t 
tell me any more. You have said enough. It is 
all passed and over now.” 

“I will finish,” replied Britton, huskily. “It 
does me good to speak out : I have kept silent too 
long After a time, I don’t know how 


106 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

long, I crawled down-stairs into my own study 
where I kept some weapons. I selected a pistol 
and returned to the landing. Alice was speaking 
in her clear, low tones. I could hear the words 
distinctly. ‘If Henry happened to come in now,’ 
she was saying. The grotesque horror of the re- 
mark struck me so forcibly that I laughed aloud, 
and then sprang into the room and stood before 
them, pistol in hand. ‘ I am here I ’ I said. My 
wife gave a startled shriek, but the man, without 
a moment’s hesitation, rushed at me with the 
quickness and ferocity of a tiger. I caught the 
glint of a stud upon his dirty shirt, and fired in- 
stantaneously. He dropped, like a stone at my 
feet, and Alice fell across his dead body, shriek- 
ing wildly. I could not shoot her as she lay writh- 
ing and helpless on the floor, but I cursed her as 
surely woman was never cursed before. Then I 
flung the pistol away and fled. I have no recol- 
lection of what happened after that, but I awoke 
to consciousness in a strange room, with my grand- 
mother sitting beside my bed. I had been ill for 
weeks and my life despaired of. I was told sub- 
sequently that early on the morning succeeding 
that fearful night at Tarrytown I appeared at the 
Astor House, where I was well known, and regis- 
tered. The hotel clerk, noticing something pe- 
culiar about my manner, followed me up-stairs. 
He found me stretched upon my bed, raving. For 
weeks I lay at the point of death.” 


THE STORY OF A SELF-CONTAINED MAN 107 

“ My dear Jack, I cannot describe to yon the 
awful horror of my return to consciousness. 
When I realized fully the situation 1 turned my 
face to the wall and burst into tears ; the kind of 
tears that a man sheds only once in his life. My 
grandmother, attributing my emotion to weakness, 
bent over me and soothed me with gentle and lov- 
ing words. Then I told her all. Some women. 
Jack, would have gone mad with hysteria, but my 
grandmother rose equal to the occasion. She as- 
sured me at first that no suspicion had attached 
itself to my name, and she promised to instigate 
at once the most guarded inquiries. Heavily 
veiled she went to Tarrytown and there learned 
the little there was to learn. I had not killed the 
man as I supposed. He had been nursed back to 
'life by my wife, and when he was able to move 
had disappeared entirely, taking his paramour 
with him. From that hour to this, in spite of all 
my efforts, I have heard nothing of them.” 

Had your wife no relatives?” 

“She was an orphan. When I first met her she 
was living with an aunt. To this aunt I wrote 
under my assumed name and received an answer 
by return of post. She knew nothing of her 
niece’s whereabouts. I employed detectives, but 
to no purpose. They were tracked to New York 
and there lost. After that I came out to Cali- 
fornia and went into business with my father. 
Hard work from morning to night acted as an 


108 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


anodyne, and kept me from committing sui- 
cide.” 

“ What an experience ! ” murmured Jack. 

“ It killed all that was best in me,’’ said Britton, 
bitterly. “ As a young man I had not frittered 
away my powers of loving on ‘ cocottes' I brought 
to Alice a clean mind and a healthy body. When 
I left Harvard I had the most buoyant spirits, and 
the keenest appreciation of all that was good and 
beautiful in life. I came to California a broken- 
down man, old in everything save years. I looked 
at men and women through the distorted lens of 
my own horrible experience. People here will 
tell you that as a young man I made no friends : 
that I was heartless and cold: that in my business 
relations I was hard, perhaps even grasping.” 

“ If they tell me that they will have to eat their 
words.” 

“Thanks, Jack, you are a good friend. That 
is the best of an Englishman ; he sticks up for 
his friends through thick-and-thin.” 

“You are a friend-in-need to me,” said Tantal- 
lon. “ I often have wondered why it was that 
you asked me, an entire stranger, to sail round 
the world at a moment’s notice. Now I under- 
stand.” 

“ Yes,” said Britton. “ Suffering is a wonder- 
ful teacher. I saw in you a faint reflection of 
myself : and I have told you my story for a pur- 
pose. You are inclined to rebel against your hard 


THE STORY OF A SELF-CONTAINED MAN 109 


luck, as you call it. Compare your experience 
with mine and be thankful.” 

“ If you ever found the man ? ” 

“ I should kill him as I would a noisome reptile. 
If he is alive he must be nearly sixty years old : 
but his age would weigh nothing with me. He 
shall have his chance, but this world is too small 
a place for both of us. When we meet, and we 
shall meet,” he added, sternly, ‘‘one of us will 
have seen the sun rise for the last time.” 

Tantallon shuddered ; this cold deadliness of 
purpose chilled him. 

“ It all happened so long ago, Britton, you 
would let him go.” 

“I have waited twenty years,” said Britton, 
significantly. 


CHAPTER IV. 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 

San Francisco is a very pleasant place, if, to 
use the vernacular, you are on the inside. It has 
this advantage over New York or London : the 
best people are not split up into half a dozen 
cliques : the upper four hundred all know each 
other, are dependent upon each other, and vie 
with each other in being friendly and hospitable 
to strangers, distinguished or undistinguished, 
who come to them properly recommended. 

Jack Tantallon received what the French call 
— un accueil trh sympathique. His simple, unaf- 
fected manner proved an open sesame to the hearts 
of his entertainers. He did not dine out in his 
tweeds, much to the surprise of certain worthy 
folk : he did not propose to a wealthy heiress 
within twenty-four hours of his arrival, nor did 
he turn up his trousers as he walked up Market 
Street ; but he danced well and seemed thoroughly 
pleased with the place and the people. In conse- 
quence he was looked upon with favor, and the 
prevailing sentiment in regard to hereditary leg- 
islators underwent a marked change. 

“He is perfectly lovely,” said an ingenuous 
110 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 


Ill 


maiden. ‘‘If all lords are like him, I shall per- 
suade Popper to spend the next season in Lon- 
don.” 

“ This English peer is a good fellow,” said Me- 
Thew of the Bohemian Club, to a friend of his, 
the moriiiiig after a “ Jinks.” “ He takes his 
whisky like a forty-niner.” 

“ He can put a man in his place. Did you hear 
what he said to that brute Ward?” 

“ No.” 

“ We were all talking together in the smoking- 
room of the Union, and Ward came up and joined 
us. Tantallon was telling us some story about 
Clara Hairon and the Prince. Ward at once put 
Ids oar in. 

“ " American people,’ he said in that insolent 
sneering voice of his, ‘don't go much on the 
Prince. It ain’t the I’ashion here to travel around 
with a gambler’s outfit.' 

“Tantallon very properly took no notice and 
went on with his story. 

“ ‘If the Prince were a commoner,’ said Ward, 
in a voice that the whole room could hear, ‘he 
would be tabooed by all decent men and women.’ 

“ Tantallon looked him up and down from head 
to heel. 

“ ‘ Are you personally acquainted with the 
Prince?’ he asked gently. 

“‘Acquainted with him,’ cried Ward, ‘not 
much.’ 


112 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3I. 


“ ‘ I thought not,’ said Tantallon. ‘ Do you 
know anyone who is personally acquainted with 
him ? ’ 

“ Ward got rather red. 

“‘No,’ he replied with his hoarse laugh, ‘I do 
not — and I don’t want to.’ 

“ ‘ And yet you say that he should be tabooed 
by all decent people ? ’ 

“ ‘ If he were plain Mr. Guelph I should class 
him way below any man in this room.’ 

“‘Indeed,’ said Tantallon, ‘you would con- 
sider him inferior to yourself for instance — eh ? ’ 

“‘I should so,’ replied Ward sulkily. 

“ ‘And yet, Mr. Ward, there is a vast difference 
in his favor.’ 

“ ‘ In what respect ? ’ 

“ ‘ In the first place the Prince has the most per- 
fect consideration for others, an amiable quality 
which you evidently don’t possess. The Prince 
is a highly-educated man and an accomplished 
linguist: you, I should judge, have hardly mas- 
tered the intricacies of your own tongue. Lastly 
the Prince is extremely good looking; while you, 
Mr. Ward, if you will pardon the expression, are 

ugly-’ 

“ In the roar of laughter that followed Ward left 
the room, white with rage.” 

“ He will be his enemy for life,” said McThew. 

“ What does Tantallon care for that ? ” 

“ Well,” remarked McThew, “I am glad Ward 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 


113 


got it in the neck. He wanted it badly. This 
Englishman can hit from the shoulder, and no 
mistake ; still I am sorry he has made an enemy 
of such a vindictive beast as Ward. He will 
never rest till he gets even.” 

Britton, who was present at the time, took the 
matter seriously. 

“ You let that fellow have it, Jack, but I wish 
to Heaven it had been someone else.” 

“Why?” 

“ The man is dangerous.” 

“ Pooh, my dear chap, I am only sorry that the 
usages of good society prevented me from punch- 
ing his insolent head.” 

“ He is a low shifty blackguard,” said Britton, 
“but he wields an enormous influence here. You 
may not believe me, but there was not a man in 
the club who would have ventured to answer him 
as you did.” 

“ Why do you have such fellows in your clubs? 
Why are they tolerated in society?” 

“ He does not go into society. He is a political 
boss of the Democratic party — and a privileged 
bully.” 

“ What do you mean by a political boss? ” 

“ Briefly he pulls the strings of the political 
puppet show. That man at the last convention 
of his party controlled one hundred and twenty 
out of one hundred and fifty delegates.” 

“ How does he do it ? ” 


8 


114 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ He stands in with the big corporations. For 
instance he goes to A. . and promises him in re- 
turn for his support such and such a thing. He has a 
different bait for every fish, and whatever he 
promises he performs. That is the secret of his 
success. He knows every saloonkeeper in the 
town and buys votes right and left. It is a cry- 
ing abuse, of course, and one of the many evil re- 
sults of universal suffrage.” 

“Then this man Ward is a power?” 

“He is the most powerful man in the State to- 
day, and he knows it. Jack. I am sorry you have 
made him your enemy.” 

“ Don’t worry : I can take care of myself.” 

“ One is never safe from such a man. He has 
unscrupulous agents in every town in the State. 
Among the low Irish here he is a petty king. He 
has only to say to one of his ‘ lambs ’ — ‘ Do this ’ 
— and it is done.” 

“ To hear you talk, Henry, anyone would think 
I was in danger of my life.” 

“ Men have been shot down for less.” 

“ What capital laws you must have.” 

“The laws are all right. Jack; it is the way 
they are administered, which, to put it mildly, is 
damnable.” 

“ Do you think that this amiable Mr. Ward will 
waylay me and knock me on the head with a club ? ” 

“He will do you an ill turn if he can. Fore- 
warned is fore-armed.” 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 


115 


The daj’s passed rapidly. Jack went down to 
Monterey and sojourned for a while at the de- 
lightful Del Monte.” As a matter of course, he 
lost himself in the maze with one of the prettiest 
girls in the hotel, and astonished the lawn tennis 
players with the strength of his service and the 
accuracy of his returns. Henry Britton who was 
up to his eyes in business left him to amuse him- 
self alone. 

•‘You know already more people than I do,” he 
said, with a laugh, “ and are twenty times as 
popular. I shall not bother myself any more 
about you. Make this your headquarters and 
keep me posted as to your whereabouts.” 

About three weeks after his arrival in San 
Francisco Tantallon received another letter from 
Lady Biddulph. 

“The marriage,” she wrote, “is postponed till 
Easter, but don’t let that fact excite your liopes 
as I have now every reason to-suppose that it will 
actually take place on the day named.” 

He also received by the same post a letter from 
Marie. 


“Cadogan Place, London. 

My dear old Jack: — A first cousin of Alick’s 
has suddenly died so the marriage will be put off 
to the last day of April. Do you think that you 
will be back in England by then ? You have 


116 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


treated me shamefully : not a line have I received, 
and for aught I knew you might have been lying 
at the bottom of the Atlantic. Only yesterday I 
heard that the “ Ilex ” had arrived in Golden Gate 
Bay, and that your high and mightiness was on 
board. Altogether you owe me reparation, and 
the best way you can pay your debts is by coming 
home at once and dancing at my wedding. We 
have been very quiet, &c. . . 

Your affectionate cousin, 

Marie.” 

This letter created in Jack’s mind a not un- 
reasonable longing to leave San Francisco by the 
next train. As he read his cousin’s words he 
seemed to hear her voice. A faint fragrance from 
the note paper recalled her sweet personality. 
There were nearly seven thousand miles between 
them, and he wished, as he never wished before, to 
see her and clasp her hand in — of course — cousinly 
friendship and regard ! 

This time he did not consult Britton, for the very 
good reason that Britton was not within reach, 
but he went instead to a great ball at the palace 
of a railroad king, and to his surprise found it 
dull, flat, stale and generally unprofitable : de- 
spite the gay crowd of pleasant people, and a 
supper that Francatelli himself might have con- 
ceived and prepared. As he went down the 
marble steps into the cold foggy morning air he 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 


117 


drew his cape closely around his shoulders, and 
shivered with ennui and disgust. 

“ I am not over it yet,” he murmured, “and if 
I go back to England I shall make a fool of my- 
self. I shall stay away for another six months, 
but not here.” 

When Britton returned, he told him that he 
was tired of Brother Jonathan’s sisters, cousins 
and aunts, charming though they undoubtedly 
were. 

“ I want to see the wilds, Henry, the places 
that Bret Harte wrote about, if such places still 
exist. I suppose they vanished with the advent 
of telephones and phonographs.” 

“ Not a bit of it,” replied Britton ; “ there are 
mining camps in the Sierras where life to-day is 
even wilder than Bret Harte made it out to be.” 

“I must see those places, Henry.” 

“ Are you serious ? ” 

“ Perfectly ! You have introduced me to some 
very charming people, but they are the same 
people I have met in London and Paris and 
Vienna, It is a case with me of ‘ toujours per- 
drix' Show me some new types.” 

“He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar,” said 
Britton. “ I can give you a letter to the manager 
of some mining property that I have in the 
Sierras. You will drop your title of course, and 
wear your oldest clothes. You will also sleep 
hard, fare harder and breathe the purest air in 


118 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


the world. You will drink the worst of whisky 
and hear the worst of language, and inside of a 
fortnight you will be back in San Francisco.” 

‘'How do I get there, Henry? ” 

“You take the cars as far as Newville : after 
that the stage for twenty-four hours. And that 
reminds me if you want to go at once you must 
go to-day or wait for a week.” 

“ I will go to-day, old man.” 

“T would accompany you. Jack, but I cannot 
spare tlie time. That trip around the Horn has 
played the devil with some of my affairs. I must 
stick to business now.” 

The same afternoon he was driven down to the 
ferry in his friend’s dogcart. Britton said good- 
bye from the steps of his house. 

“ You need not expect me till you see me,” said 
Tantallon. 

Britton watched his sturdy figure till it was out 
of sight. 

“ What a good fellow he is,” he thought ; “ a 
thorough type of an English gentleman. It is 
curious that I should take such an interest in 
him ; he almost seems part and parcel of my life. 
I wonder whether in some mysterious way the 
threads of his destiny and mine are intertwined. 
Bah — what humbug ! I am becoming a senti- 
mentalist in my old age.” 

At the Oakland ferry Jack bought a ticket, had 
his baggage checked, and then walked into the 


JACK MAKES AN ENEMY. 


119 


waiting-room. A thickset, heavy-jo wled man, who 
had been watching him, approached one of llie 
porters and carelessly nodded to him. 

“ How are you making it, Mike ? ” 

“Faith, Mr Ward,” replied the man, “an’ it’s 
not a fortune that I’m piling up here, but there’s 
divarsion for thim as knows how and where to 
look for it.” 

“ That was a good looking Britisher whose bag- 
gage you helped check just now.” 

“ He was that, Mr Ward.” 

“ Off to the old country, I suppose.” 

“ His baggage was checked for Newville : but 
what the likes of him is afther in such a God-for- 
saken hole as Newville gits away wid me.” 

Ward laughed and walked away. 

“ Newville,” he muttered to himself, “ he is 
going to the mines of course. I guess he’s hunt- 
ing a tough time and by G — d I’ll see that he gets 
it. Rough and tough his lordship will find it. 
It’s too bad his partner the Prince is not along.” 


CHAPTER V. 


HARD SCRATCH. 

In due time Jack Tantallon reached his desti- 
nation. The six horse Newville stage, a lumber- 
ing but picturesque conveyance, bumped into 
yawning chuck-holes, slammed round corners, 
hung trembling upon the brinks of fathomless 
precipices and finally, plastered with mud and 
covered with dust, drew up with a deadly jerk in 
front of a rambling log hut that proclaimed its 
existence to the mining world under the resound- 
ing title of the “ Grand Hotel.” The light from 
a roaring pine fire shone fitfully through smoked 
stained windows upon a knot of cowboys and 
min^, who were gathered upon the porch, silently 
expectant. The arrival of the Newville stage — 
their only link with civilization — was to all an 
event of deep and absorbing interest. 

The stage driver let the reins fall from his tired 
and benumbed fingers as two or three men came 
out of the darkness and took charge of the 
horses. 

“ You look kind o’ cold, Dave,” said one of the 
group. 

“ I am cold,” replied the driver, “ it’s a doggoned 
120 


HARD SCRATCH. 


121 


Toad at any time of year, but jest now it’s hell. 
Over the plains we was biled and over the moun- 
tains we was froze. This gen’elman here” — he 
nodded in the direction of Jack — “ is unacquainted: 
you kin take him in and make him to home.” 

One or two of the men came forward in a 
friendly way, but the majority gazed at our hero 
in stolid and speechless curiosity. The proprietor 
of the shanty escorted him into the main room 
wliich did duty as sitting-room, office and saloon. 

“This ain’t the ‘Palace’, Mister,” said the man 
in a slightly injured tone, as if he resented the 
appearance of this fair-seeming stranger, “ but in 
these parts we call it a pretty fine hotel. We 
don’t purvide no parlor suits or marble-topped 
bureaus, but there ain’t more nor two beds in each 
room and the meals air squar an’ undeniable.” 

“ That’s all right,” cried Jack, “lead on Mac- 
duff.” 

“ My name ain’t Macduff,” said the man, “ its 
Taylor — the boys call me ‘ One Thumb ’ because,” 
— he held out a dirty and mutilated hand as evi- 
dence — “I had an unfortunit accident with a bar- 
tender.” 

“What did he do, Mr Taylor? ” 

“ He bit off my thumb but he wont bite off no 
more thumbs.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because I filled his carcass full of lead, that’s 
why : the biter got bit.” 


122 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

He laughed grimly at his own jest. 

“ I kind o’ like the name,” he added after a 
pause. “It’s suitable and dern it ! a man may as^ 
well be called by one name as another. Hyar 
we air,” he concluded as he flung open the door 
of what we will call by courtesy a bedroom and 
which communicated with the saloon. “I’ll put 
yer in with a white man for to-night and to-morrow 
I’ll And yer, a single room if I kin. The Jeclge 
is an elegant gen’elman and an old time friend 
and pardner of mine — ain’t yer, Jedge?” 

An individual who was sitting by the saloon 
fire with a paper in his hand slowly rose to his 
feet. 

“Jedge,” proceeded Mr Taylor, “let me make 
yer acquainted with Mr. . . .” 

“Sholto,” said Jack, giving one of his names, 
the name he wished to be known by. 

“Mr Sholto — Jedge Cephas Ketchum.” 

The Judge inclined his head gravely. He was 
a tall man, upright for his years, with a twinkle 
in his keen blue eyes, and a bibulous nose, that 
told its own tale. 

“The Jedge,” continued Mr. Taylor, “is a 
family man, but when he is in town he’s one of the 
boys— an’ he’s generally in town.” 

Later on Jack learned the the Judge was Jus- 
tice of the Peace and Notary Public for the town 
of Hard Scratch, a position which he adorned, and 
which conferred upon him a small salary and 


HARD SCRATCH. 


123 


sundry fees, paid either in specie or kind. It was 
his custom — a custom more honored in the breach 
than the observance — to come in from his govern- 
ment claim in the morning and return to the bosom 
of his family in the evening; but as a rule he 
would pass the night at the hotel upon the plea of 
urgent business. The urgent business was con- 
fined to a game of “ draw ” or “ studhorse,” and 
was usually protracted to a late hour, for the 
“ Jedge ” was a bit of a gambler and a toper of 
tried and exceeding capacity. 

“ Supper,” said ‘‘ One Thumb,” “ will be ready 
in a quarter of an hour. There’s a faucet outside 
and a bar o’ soap. If yer particler about yer 
towels,” he added facetiously, “I advise yer as a 
friend to use yer pocket-handkercher.” 

Tantallon, who was one of those men who take 
everything as it comes, went to the faucet and 
washed his face and hands. When he returned 
the Judge invited him to sit down. 

“ Yes, sir,” he remarked after a few preliminary 
commonplaces, “ Yes, sir, I ’lowed when I sot eyes 
on ye that yer were a Britisher, and a high-toned 
one at that. Yer don’t drop yer h’s overly much.” 

“ I drop a few, eh ? ” 

“ Yer drop a few naterally,” said the Judge, 
“ but nothing to speak of. Now my sainted mother 
was English. My father was the son of a lord 
but he died young. He never knew me.” 

“ You were born in England ? ” said Jack po- 


124 


THE R03IANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


litely. He had met many Americans who pro- 
fessed to be descended from lords. 

“No sir, I am an American citizen and proud 
of it. I was born in Vermont and there ain’t a 
State in the Union whar I hev not lived. I came 
to Californy in ’52, was through the war, marched 
Avth Sherman to the sea, went back to Vermont 
whar I was raised, and finally settled down again 
in Californy for good. That’s what they all do : 
they may got tired of the Golden State an’ quit, 
but they come back. When a man gets acclima- 
ted here he can’t live no place else. Yer kin tell 
by my speech that I hev lived in all parts of the 
Union.” 

“You have many different dialectsin the States^ 
Judge ? ” 

“Dialects! Wal I should smile — an’ a man 
picks ’em up quicker than a mule can kick. A 
down-east Yankee talks one way, an’ a Kentuck- 
ian talks another, but a Californian musses ’em all 
up; an’ shoots his mouth off to please himself. 
Will yer take a wad. Mister ? ” 

They walked up to the bar, and disposed of a 
couple of whisky straights, and then went into the 
dining-room together. 

The supper was served upon a dirty and dilapi- 
dated oil cloth upon which a tin plate was laid 
face down. Upon the top of the plate stood a tin 
mug, and ranged crosswise in front of the plate lay 
a knife and fork, like the mug and plate, of tin^ 


HARD SCRATCH 


125 


A slovenly cock-eyed girl came to each man in 
turn and ran the gamut of what there was for sup- 
per. Her voice was pitched in the highest and 
shrillest of keys, and she gabbled off the bill of 
fare in one supreme breathless effort. 

“ HOMINYHAMANDEGGSPORKANDCHOPSFKIEDPER- 

tertoestermatersandpie” 

The judge answered for Jack. 

“Marne,” he said with judicial dignity, “3^er 
tongue is as well oiled as yer hair. Bring the hull 
(whole) outfit.” 

“ Tou have plenty to eat here,” remarked Jack. 

“Yes,” said the Judge cheerfully, “there’s a 
plenty to eat, but it takes a good, a mighty good 
man, to get away with even a little of it.” 

Presently the cock-eyed Hebe returned with a 
huge tray piled high with small dishes, which she 
“dumped down,” regardless of the laws of sym- 
metry in front of each hungry miner. 

“ Tea or coffee ? ” she asked with asperity. 

“ The tea is bad but the coffee is worse,” said 
the Judge serenely. 

“Tea please,” replied Jack, who was struggling 
with a refractory piece of pork. 

“If yer ’ll excuse me,” said the Judge, “ I will 
make a suggestion. Leave that ther pork alone 
an’ try somethin’ else. Yer too young to die 
yet.” 

The rest of the men ate their meal in compara- 


126 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

tive silence and with extraordinary rapidity. The 
average time for each miner being nine minutes 
and a half by Jack’s watch. He asked the Judge 
for an explanation of this singular haste. 

“ They know no better, the poor cusses,” re- 
plied the representative of the law ; “ God gave 
’em all stomachs but he forgot to furnish ’em with 
brains. That’s what ails them. As for me I eat 
slow and move slow but I think denied quick, and 
don’t yer forget it.” 

After supper Tantallon gave the Judge a cigar 
and the two men smoked together and talked for 
upwards of an hour. The young man was aston- 
ished at the native wit and shrewdness of his com- 
panion. Upon every topic he had something to 
say, and what he said, though badly worded, was 
to the point and interesting. He described in 
detail the system of placer mining, and offered on 
the morrow to drive Jack to the different mills 
and mines in the vicinity of the camp. 

“ Ther is a big job on hand now,” he remarked, 
“ a job of fluming to supply that mine of Britton’s, 
the Lady Mary, with sufficient water. That boss 
of Britton’s and the contractor hev a soft thing 
of it and no mistake.” 

“Are they swindling Britton?” asked Tan- 
tallon. 

“ Wal,” replied the Judge cautiously, “ swind- 
ling is a mighty ugly word, but between you an’ 
me an' the cigars, it about meets the case. Brit- 


HARD SCRATCH 


127 


ton can stand it I presume an’ anyway it ain’t no 
business of mine.” 

Jack at once made up his mind that in his 
friend’s interests he would not present his letter 
of introduction to the manager. 

“ I will watch the man,” he thought, “ and find 
out all I can.” 

He went to bed early but not immediately to 
sleep. Without, the pine trees, their dark tops 
clearly outlined against the starry skies, sighed 
their melodious lullaby, but within was the sound 
of many curses and the dull clinking of thick 
glasses, and the foul, noxious odors of opium- 
tainted cigars. Jack lay upon his hard bed and 
pondered. The glaring anomaly between the works 
of God and the works of Man had never before 
been so painfully manifest to him. But it pre- 
sented a problem too complex for a tired brain to 
solve, and he fell asleep and dreamed happily of 
Marie and home. 


CHAPTER VI. 


WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 

Mu. William Ward, political boss, wire-puller, 
manipulator, etc., to the Democratic party of San 
Francisco was a gentleman of immense resource, 
and a man moreover with an infinite appreciation 
of small and apparently unimportant side-issues. 
Partly by nature, principally by long and arduous 
experience, he had trained himself never to let go 
of anything or anybody who might be of service 
to him in the battle of life. To his “ lambs,” who 
infested the city, and were of the order of sheep 
commonly called black, he proved invariably a 
kind and generous shepherd. In consequence he 
could command their services, and the services of 
their friends, at any time and for almost any pur- 
pose. 

The day after Jack Tantallon left the city, a 
letter, in the handwriting of Ward, followed him 
to Hard Scratch. It was addressed to that same 
contractor of whom mention was made in the last 
chapter. Ward knew him to be an absolutely 
unscrupulous man, without either heart or princi- 
ple, blind to everything save his own interests 
and advancement. A better tool for the purpose 
128 


WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 


129 


he had in view could not have been found. It 
may be said here that Ward had no intention of 
attempting Tantallon’s life ; that, he was aware, 
would bring a hornet’s nest about his ears ; but 
he had promised himself to make it “rough and 
tough” for Jack, and when Bill Ward made up 
his mind to any definite plan of action he was not 
slow ill getting to work. 

The letter to the contractor ran as follows — 

“ Mr. Sam Collins, Hard Scratch. 

Dear Sam: I am sending you a word of ad- 
vice : it costs me nothing, but it may be of service 
to you. A young Englishman (he purposely 
omitted his name thinking that it was more than 
probable that Tantallon would assume another) 
has just left here for Hard Scratch. He is the 
most intimate friend of Britton ! I advise you to 
keep your eyes skinned and your tracks covered ! 
A good tar and feathering wouldn’t hurt the d — d 
fool any, and if you hint around among the boys 
that he is a ‘spotter ’ (spy), I reckon they will fix 
him and save you the trouble. 

Your friend. 

Bill.” 

Although the stage ran only once a week to 
Hard Scratch, a mail carrier, mounted on a stout 
pony, left Newville for the mines every other day, 
and consequently this cleverly composed missive 
reached Sam Collins about four days after Jack’s 
9 


130 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

arrival. During those four days Jack had not 
been idle. Together with Judge Ketchum he had 
visited the mines and flume, and had spoken with 
several of the men engaged on its construction. 
Dressed in a pair of overalls, with a flannel shirt 
and a sombrero hat, his appearance among the 
rough miners and mechanics created no surpi ise : 
he moved freely among the men and was liberal in 
the matter of drinks. It was supposed generally 
that he was locating a claim or prospecting for 
minerals. His suspicions were soon confirmed. 
His friend was being robbed in the most wholesale 
and flagitious manner. At the end of the third 
day he wrote to Britton. 

“ You must come up here at once and straighten 
matters out. It is not only a question of money 
but of humanity. The flume is so carelessly con- 
structed that the lives of innocent people are im- 
periled. The trestle in several places is built of 
rotten timbers. You have been robbed all round. 

‘‘1 am enjoying myself hugely : these miners are 
capital fellows, but the men engaged on the flume 
are unmitigated scoundrels. No more for the 
present. Ever yours, 

Tantallon.” 

It will be necessary here to explain, for the 
benefit of the uninformed reader, the modus ope- 
randi of the Britton mines. They were in the 
hands of a local manager who had full powers from 


WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 


131 


Britton to do what he chose in regard to the work- 
ing of them upon a certain stated capital. This 
man had systematically swindled his employer for 
years, but in a small way. The mines, owing to 
the scarcity of water, had been worked at a great 
disadvantage, and the profits were naturally insig- 
nificant. In fact no opportunity of robbing Brit- 
ton upon a large scale presented itself, until the 
proposition of bringing water from a cailon some 
miles distant was submitted and accepted. This 
transaction involved the handling of an enormous 
sum of money, and Britton, who had implicit con- 
fidence in his man, intrusted the affair in its en- 
tirety to his practised judgment and experience. 
Pollard, (the boss), saw his chance and seized it. 
He came to San Francisco and interviewed Sam 
Collins, the great mining contractor. The two 
worthies were birds of a feather, and Collins hav- 
ing agreed to share the spoil, the flume was com- 
menced at once. The reader will guess that in a 
‘"job” of this magnitude there are many men, to 
use a slang expression, “ in the Know.” It is im- 
possible to scamp work on a large scale without 
someone finding it out; and the object of the con- 
tractor is, of course, to confine this knowledge as 
much as possible to those whose interest it is to 
keej) silent. Collins employed a vast number of 
hands in different parts of California and Nevada, 
and it was an easy matter for him to pick and 
choose out of them tools able and willing to hold 


132 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

their tongues in return for a slight increase of 
wage, or, in certain cases, a stipulated sum paid 
down, hard cash in advance. 

At the time that Tantallon reached Hard 
Scratch everything was running on oiled wheels. 
A perfect understanding existed between the con- 
tractor and the bosses of the different gangs ; and 
the remoteness of the locality coupled with this 
entente cordiale’’' between employer and employed 
made detection next to impossible. Ward’s letter 
therefore fell like a petard among the smiling con- 
spirators. Collins at once instituted a vigorous 
private inquiry and found, to his dismay, that the 
cat was already out of the bag. He went to Pol- 
lard and showed him the letter. 

“ If this Englishman is a friend of Britton,” said 
Pollard, “ why did he not bring an introduction to 
me?” 

“ Perhaps he did, Jim ? ” 

The two men looked at each other with evil 
eyes ; the moisture drying upon their hot lips. 

“ There is only one thing to be done,” said Pol- 
lard, in a nervous whisper. 

The other man nodded. 

“It must be done at once or the game is up. 
This Britisher knows too much. If he gives us 
away it means ‘ Good-bye John ’ for us.” 

“We will have to be derned careful, Jim, if he 
is a friend of Britton. There will be all-fired hell 
when he disappears.” 


WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 


133 


“He mustn’t disappear,” replied Pollard, “he 
must die right here before witnesses, and we’ll 
ship the corpse to San Francisco before it’s cold.” 

He bent down and whispered a few words in 
the contractor’s ear. 

“ How will that pan out?” he asked. 

“ First-rate,” said the other, trembling. 

“ Pah,” cried Pollard scornfully, “ you’re be- 
ginning to get scared, Jim. We’d better quit and 
go to the poor-house.” 

“I am scared,” said the contractor, with livid 
face, “but I shall fall into line in a minute. Give 
me a drink of whisky.” 

He took a long pull and stiffened his upper lip. 

“ When will it be ... . done?” he asked. 

“ To-night,” replied Pollard, sternly ; “ or not 
at all.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


JUDGE KETCHUM TALKS OF HIS FAMILY. 

Jack Tantallon had one quality which is said 
especially to belong to Scotchmen and mules — the 
quality of obstinacy. For instance, when Judge 
Ketcliuin solemnly warned him not to play cards 
witli the homy handed but deft-fingered habitues 
of the Grand Hotel ” Jack at once pooh-poohed 
the well meant suggestion, assured the Judge that 
lie knew how to take care of his person and his 
pocket, and finally announced his intention of 
sitting down with the “ boys ” that very evening. 

‘‘ I like poker,” he said with his gay laugh, 
“ and 1 am always lucky at cards.” 

The Judge, who had taken a great fancy to 
Jack, shook his head and lit a most villainous 
cigar. 

“ If yer must take a hand yer must,” he an- 
swered thoughtfully, “and I’m not the man to pre- 
vent yer havin’ a good time ; but yer must watch 
out. Give me a deck of cards.” 

He took a pack of ordinary playing cards and 
shuffled them dexterously. Then he dealt five to 
Jack and five to himself — alternately. 

“ What hev you got?” he asked. 

134 


JUDGE KETCH UM TALKS OF HIS FAMILY. 135 


Jack laid down his hand — three kings, a seven, 
and a four. The Judge triumphantly produced 
three aces. 

“ How did you do that? ” asked Jack. 

“Wal,” replied the Justice of the Peace, “it 
ain’t overly easy and it ain’t overly hard. A matter 
of practice I should say ; but the pint I’m makin’ 
is tliis — an’ what I kin do is child’s play compared 
with what some of the boys kin do — yer’ve got to 
remember one thing if yer set down to poker in 
Hard Scratch, an’ that is — Keep yer eyes on the 
dealer’s hands, an’ keep ’em peeled. Jest now yer 
watched my face and I got away with the hull busi- 
ness. If yer watch my hands my name is Dennis.” 

“ It is very good of you to tell me all this,” 
said Jack gratefully. 

“Wal,” said the Judge, “I kinder like yer, 
Jack: When I sot eyes on yer I said to myself — 
‘ Jedge that there is a squar’ man, treat him 
right an’ help him along.’ ” 

“ You are a square man yourself,” said Tantal- 
lon. 

“ Yes sir,” replied the old man, “ Jedge Ketchum 
is a squar’ man, but he has done some all-fired 
crooked things. When I go to hell,” he added 
impressively, “ I don’t expect to find no great 
change : my life has bin tough ; it couldn’t be 
much tougher.” 

“ I don’t think you have done anything very- 
bad, Judge.” 


136 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ I ran away with another man’s wife,” said 
the apostle of the law gloomily. “ It was a 
derned mean trick, but I got the worst of it.” 

“ The crime brought its own punishment,” sug- 
gested Jack. 

“ Yer kin bet yer sweet life on that.” 

Presently the Judge spoke again. 

“ Then yer an Englishman, Jack, an’ I like En- 
glishmen : my parents were English an’, there is 
no use talkin’, blood is thicker than water, an’ the 
better the blood the kinder the feelin’. I hev the 
blood of kings in my veins. My mother often 
told me that I had an English peer for my grand- 
father ; not that I give a continental, but it makes 
me feel good when I see an English gentleman 
like you. Jack ; fer I know that had cuccum- 
stances bin ordered otherwise I might hev bin 
sittin’ side by side with Queen Victory in the 
gilded saloons of Windsor instead of in this 
G— d d— d hole.” 

The Judge called for two more whiskies and 
another cigar. 

“ The cigars ain’t what yer accustomed to I 
make no doubt, but they’re .... cigars, and 
One Thumb says they come from Havanny direct : 
no one doubts his word but I reckon he’s mis- 
taken, he means China.” 

‘‘ Throw that filthy thing away,” said Jack, 
with scant regard for the feelings of One Thumb ” 
who was in attendance ; “ and try one of these.” 


JUDGE K ETC HUM TALKS OF HIS FAMILY. 137 

He produced his own case — there were only 
two left, but Jack never considered himself. The 
Judge took the case, which had been a present 
from the old Earl, and looked at the coat of arms 
engraved on the outside. 

‘‘ Why that’s curous,” he remarked, “ derned 
curous. Out thar to home I hev a ring that be- 
longed to my father, an’ by thunder it has the 
same writin’ on it that this has, an’ the same wild 
cat in the corner.” 

“ Leopard,” said Jack gravely. 

‘‘I call it a wild cat,” replied the Judge. 

“ They’re meaner than hell anyway ; an’ the mot- 
ter ‘ Touch not ’ that’s pretty slim too. It would 
be a son of a gun of a fool that would touch a wild 
catonless the critter was dead. I’d as lieve handle 
a skunk.” 

“ You say the ring belonged to your father? ” 

“ Yes sir, my mother thought the world of that 
ring.” 

“ Have you any papers relating to your father’s 
family ? ” 

“ Out to the ranch there’s an old box chuck full 
o’ papers but I ain’t fooled away no time readin’ 
of them.” 

“Was your father’s name Ketchurn ? ” asked. 
Jack, interested but absolutely unconscious of 
the truth. 

“His name,” said the Judge, “ I disremember, 
but it was not Ketchurn. My father left England 


138 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


in a scrape an’ he took my mother’s name. 
died before I was born, an’ left me nothin’ but his 
blue eyes an’ his hook nose.” 

“ You and Mr. Sholto have the same eyes and 
nose,” remarked “ One Thumb.” 

The two men gazed at each other. 

“ That’s so,” said the Judge. “Jack has good 
blood in his veins. I tell yer. One Thumb, it 
shows the nose every time.” 

“So does whisky, Jedge.” 

The Hon. Cephas Ketchum took no notice of 
this quip uncourteous, but proceeded. 

“ No sir ; my father left me nothing, an’ my 
mother was too proud to ask for anything from the 
high-toned folks who went back on their own son. 
The ole lady shewed a heap o’ speerit. She 
come of good stock herself, an’ when she found 
herself plumb on the floor she jest naterally took 
a holt, an’ supported both of us. I owe my ed- 
dication to her, an’ I think a derned sight more of 
her than I do of my poor father, an’ his noble 
relations. My private opinion of them is that they 
was mean skunks.” 

The two men nodded approval. 

“Facts tell,” said the Judge oracularly. 
“ There’s no gittin behind ’em. When a man git& 
down to the hard pan he has to face ’em an’ call 
’em by their right names. You high-toned peo- 
ple, Jack, pretend a derned sight too mueh. Yer 
pretend so much that yer end by pretendin’ yer 


JUDGE KETCHUM TALKS OF HIS FAMILY. 139 


■don’t pretend. Cephas don’t go much on that ; 
what he thinks he says, an’ what he says is some- 
times derned unpleasant to them as has to listen 
to it.” 

“ That’s so,” said “ One Thumb,” who spoke 
from experience. “ Yer’ve got a raspin’ rough 
tongue, Jedge, sure enough ! ” 

The conversation drifted away into other chan- 
nels. Jack, if he gave the subject a passing 
thought, merely supposed that by some accident a 
signet ring, engraved with the Tantallon arms, 
had come into the possession of the Ketchum 
family. That some closer connection between 
tliis whisky-drinking Justice and himself might 
■exist, never entered his head. His great uncle 
had casually mentioned, as the reader knows, that 
there had been in time past a mesalliance in the 
family, but he had not paid any very particular 
attention to what the older peer had said. Since 
the “ Ilex ” dropped anchor in Golden Gate Bay he 
had heard half a dozen stories similar to that of 
Judge Ketchum. Brother Jonathan, in the 
secret recesses of his shrewd heart, despite the 
glorious “Declaration of Independence,” dearly 
loves a lord. The leaven of the British snob lies 
latent, but ready to ferment should the occasion 
present itself. In the role of Laznrus he out- 
Herod’s Herod in his diatribes against rank and 
caste; but when he strikes “ile,” or a gold-bear- 
ing ledge in the Sierras, and blossoms into Dives 


140 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

— then, Hey Presto — What a change ! That 
precious relic, the family Bible, gives place to the 
family tree. Our honest republican is seized with 
an irresistible yearning for liveried and cockaded 
servants. He hungers for the social fleshpots 
of the modern Babylon, and the climax of his 
ambition (or his wife’s) is to entertain the Prince 
of Cambria and be entertained in turn. Outside 
of this little failing, common to all members of 
the Anglo-Saxon family, he is a generous open- 
handed fellow, who pays his way wherever he 
goes, and keeps a kind word and a good cigar for 
all comers. Peace be with him, and may his 
shadow never be less. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


VI ET ARMIS. 

Pollard was a man of action. When he had 
an object in view “ he went for it,” to use his own 
expression, “as if a bear was after him.” It had 
come to his ears, ears always open to the flotsam 
and jetsam of local gossip, that a certain Cal 
Casey, a desperado who in a more civilized 
country would have graced the gallows long 
since, had been playing poker at the “ Grand 
Hotel,” and had lost (for him) a large sum of 
money to Jack Tantallon. His ready wit grasped 
the opportunity. He wanted an instrument and 
lo ! there was one to his hand. After Collins left 
the office he sent for Casey and invited him to 
take a chair and a cigar. 

“ How are you making it. Cal ? ” asked Pol- 
lard. 

“ D — d bad,” replied the other. 

“ I hear the Britisher got away with you. Cal, 
the night before last. You’re pretty slick with 
the cards. How did he do it?” 

“ It was along o’ thet pardner o’ his, the Jedge,” 
replied Casey sulkily. “ The ole bummer kep his 
eyes on me, an’ when I jined the game, ‘ Bill,’ sez 

141 


142 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

he, ‘ if yer git in yere, none o’ yer funny business. 
Play squar or I’ll let the daylight into yer.’ The 
derned cuss is as quick as chain lightnin’ so I 
kep’ my mouth shet an’ sot down.” 

“ You thought you’d fool him, eh ?” 

I’ll fool him yet,” said the man savagely. 

“Go on with your story, Cal.” 

“ Wal, presently the Jedge deals me out four 
little trays. I jests looks as if molasses candy 
wouldn’t melt in ray mouth an* comes in with a 
raise of one dollar, we was playin’ a quarter ante 
an’ fifty cents to come in. All of ’em piled in, an’ 
the Britisher raised me five dollars before the 
draw. That froze out the balance o’ the crowd ; 
an’ I took one card an’ he took two. Then we 
begun to bet an’ pretty soon I bed all that I was 
worth on the table — ‘ I call yer,’ sez I. ‘ Four aces,’ 
sez he, an’ I could see by the look of that G — d 
d d Jedge that the job had bin put up.” 

It may be said here in common justice to the 
Hon. Cephas that no “job” had been “put up.” 
The four aces had fallen to Jack in the natural 
order of things. 

“What are you out. Cal?” asked Pollard 
calmly. 

“ I’m out all I hev. Thet blank-blanked galoot 
ain’t left me a nickel.” 

“ Do you want to get even ? ” said Pollard sig- 
nificantly. 

“ Do I want to git even,” repeated the man 


VI ET ARMIS. 


143 


sarcastically, “ wal, I wonder if I do ! Give me a 
chance, boss, an’ see.” 

“ How much money are you actually out in hard 
cash ? 

“ Three hundred an’ fifty dollars, in gold coin.” 

“ Do you know who this man is ? ” asked Pollard 
in a low tone. 

“ He’s a denied sight too high-toned fer me, 
boss.” 

Pollard drew his chair close up to the gambler. 

“ He is a . . . spotter ! ” 

“The h . . 1 he is,” said Casey grimly. “If he’s 
a spotter we’ll fix him mighty quick.” 

“And have Britton up here on the next stage ; 
your pluck is good, Cal, but I don’t go much on 
your prudence.” 

“ That’s so, boss ; Britton would make things 
pretty lively aroun’ this yere camp.” 

“If that Britisher was killed in a gambling 
scrape,” remarked Pollard carelessly, “the man 
who killed him might find a thousand dollars to 
his credit at any bank in California he might chose 
to name.” 

“Hev you anythin’ against him, boss?” 

“ Never mind me,” said Pollard, “let’s stick to 
the text ; if this Britisher was playing a game of 
draw, say to-night, and he kind of imagined that 
some one, say Cal Casey, was trying to cinch him, 
he would be apt to get on his ear — eh ? ” 

“ He’d be liable to,” assented Cal. 


144 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ And if he got on his ear he would probably 
make some insulting remarks.” 

“ It’s more’n likely thet he would.” 

“ In this free country,” proceeded Pollard, 
“ American citizens won’t take lip from British 
subjects. Will they. Cal ? Someone in such 
cases is apt to get hurt.” 

Casey drew a deep breath and looked at Pollard 
admiringly. 

“ Yer a deep cuss an’ no mistake, boss ; but yer 
forgit one thing. The Jedge.” 

“I’ll see that he is out of the way. I can send 
him up the country on business.” 

There was a pause of some seconds. 

“ Wheer would this coin be paid in?” 

“ It might be paid right here,” said Pollard, 
throwiiig off the last rag of restraint. 

“ In gold?” 

“ In big twenties, Cal.” 

“ I’ll do it,” said the man suddenly. 

“ To-night?” asked Pollard briefly. 

“ To-night.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


ALARMED. 

In due time Britton received and read the let- 
ter that Tantallon wrote to him from Hard 
Scratch. He took it at once to his lawyer, who 
had been an old and valued friend of his father, 
and asked for his advice. 

“There is only one course to pursue,” said the 
attorney as he handed back the letter to Britton. 

“And that . . . ?” 

“ Is to start for the mines without a moment’s 
delay.” 

“ I cannot go until the next stage goes.” 

“ You can hire a team and drive. 3^ourself. 
Honestly,” he proceeded, “I would not let the 
grass grow under my feet. I am an old miner as 
you know, and I tell you that your friend’s life is 
in danger.” 

Britton looked at him in horrified amazement. 

“Jack’s life in danger ...” he stammered. 

“ Most assuredly. He has exposed a gigantic 
swindle in which many men are engaged. If it 
becomes a matter of suspicion even to them that 
he is a friend of yours, and there in your in- 
terest, his life is not worth ten minutes’ purchase.’* 

145 


10 


146 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ My God,” cried Britton, “ we have not a mo- 
ment to lose.” 

“ Are you known in Hard Scratch? ” asked the 
lawyer. 

“ I have never been there ; not a soul knows me 
with the exception, of course, of Pollard and 
Collins.” 

“If you take my advice,” said the attorney 
gravely, “you will arm yourself and register 
under an assumed name. Keep out of Pollard’s 
way and satisfy yourself as to the condition of 
things ; then return with your friend and act from 
here. I know more about mining camps than you 
do, and I warn you that when you go among a lot 
of desperadoes like those engaged on the flume 
you go with your life in your hand.” 

Britton glanced at his watch. It was late in 
the afternoon. 

“You will take the cars to-morrow?” said the 
lawyer. 

“ I go to-night.” 

“ By special train ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

The lawyer stroked his beard meditatively. 

“ I will go with you,” he said suddenly. “ Two 
heads in such a business are better than one.” 

Henry Britton held out his hand. 

“ I am infinitely obliged to you,” he said simply ; 
“ we will start at once.” 

In less than an hour they were on their way. 


ALARMED, 


147 


Money in connection with travelling can effect 
miracles. Britton was a director of the road and 
had his own special -car, to which was coupled tlie 
speediest engine in the Southern Pacific round- 
house. From San Francisco, Britton had wired to 
the liveryman at Newville, to have aspring wagon 
and his fastest team in waiting. At Lathrop they 
were delayed for a few minutes, but from there to 
Newville, a distance of one hundred and twenty- 
five miles, the run was made in two hours and 
seven minutes. 

Fast travelling,” remarked the lawyer, as tlie 
great Pullman rocked to and fro. 

“ It is slow to me,” said Britton, laconically. 

He had a strange presentiment of coming evil, 
and the distance between himself and his friend 
seemed well nigh interminable. At Newville they 
found the team in readiness and a driver that 
knew the road. 

“ How many hours does the stage take ? ” asked 
Britton. 

“Twenty-four hours more or less — generally 
more.” 

“ Don’t spare the horses,” said Britton curtly, 
“ if anything happens to them I will pay you their 
value; and for eveiy hour you make under the 
usual twenty-four I will give you ten dollars.” 

The man nodded and whipped up his team. 
The moon was shining and the firmament ablaze 
wjth stars ; but the natural beauty of the scene 


148 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

had no charms for Britton. His soliI was con- 
sumed with the most poignant anxiety. Minute 
by minute the lagging hours passed slowly away. 
It soon became evident to the travellers that with 
two horses instead of six it was physically impos- 
sible to compete with the regular stage in making 
time. Across the plains the road was fairly good ; 
but the next day, when they reached the moun- 
tains and toiled laborously up the steep grades, 
Britton realized with angry, hopeless impatience 
that neither bribes nor whip were of further avail. 
In fact it was past midnight when the tired smok- 
ing horses drew up at the “ Grand Hotel.” Brit- 
ton noticed that something of importance had 
taken place. There was a look of excitement 
upon the faces of the few men who were gathered 
together on the porch. They stood in a knot, 
gesticulating and whispering. He hurriedly ap- 
proached the bar, and asked for his friend by the 
name he had assumed — Sholto. 

The bartender looked at him curiously. 

“Air you a friend of ]\Ir. Sholto? ” he asked in 
a hesitating tone of voice. 

“ Yes,” replied Britton impatiently ; “ where is 
he? In bed?” 

The man came from behind the bar and led him 
aside. 

“Yer friend,” he said impressively, “was shot 
through the body less than an hour ago.” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE BITER BIT. 

Curiously enough Jack Tantallon upon the 
evening he was shot had made up his mind not to 
play poker. The Judge had been summoned 
away upon the pretext of urgent business, and be- 
fore he left obtained a half promise from Jack that 
he would leave the cards alone until his, the 
Judge’s return. 

“They’re a tough crowd,” said the Hon. 
Cephas, as he indulged in a parting glass with 
Tantallon, “an’ they’ll cinch yer if they kin. Yer 
see the boys know me and when I’m around they 
dasn’t try any o’ their monkey business ; but 
they’ll git the drop on yer, Jack, as sure as my 
name is Cephas Ketchum. Thar’s that buckskin 
Injun — Cal Casey — he’s kinder lay in’ low for yer 
since yer cleaned him out.” 

“ If he wants his revenge he can have it any 
day,” said Tantallon carelessly. 

“ Wal,” said the Judge, “if yer play with Cal 
watch out. The son-of-a-gun is as mean an’ ornery 
a cuss as ever crossed the Rockies: he’d steal the 
pennies from his dead mother’s eyes. I kinder 
feel oneasy at leavin’ yer. Jack, with a doggoned 

149 


150 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

critter like Cal a bangin’ around with an’ extry 
deck o’ cards up his sleeve, an’ murder in his 
heart ! ” 

“ To put your good old mind at rest,” said Jack, 
“ I won’t play to-night. I’ll go to bed early and 
have a beauty sleep. When will you be back, 
Judge ? ” 

“ Maybe to-night, maybe to-morrer. I hate to 
go,” he added thoughtfully, but business is busi- 
ness, an’ it ain’t been rainin’ fees around this yere 
camp ; not by a dern sight. Cephas Ketchum has 
to keep liis grip an’ rake in what spondulicks he 
kin.” 

Jack watched his legal friend drive off in a 
dilapidated buggy drawn by an attenuated de- 
scendant of Rosinante. Then he returned to his 
chair on the porch. 

“ I like that man,” he mused. “ He is a fear- 
ful and wonderful specimen of a Justice of the 
Peace, but his heart is in the right place ; and 
that covers a multitude of sins. In a row I’d 
stake my life he’d stand up and fight till he 
dropped. The old chap is as hard as nails, and as 
firm on his pins as I am.” 

He blew a great ring of smoke into the rosin- 
scented air and watched the stars twinkling peace- 
fully above him. 

“It’s a rum world,” he thought, “ and there are 
a lot of queer characters in it. Becky Sharp 
said it was an easy thing to be good with five 


THE BITER BIT. 


151 


thousand a year, and I dare swear that if that 
battered old judge liad been born in the purple he 
would have gone to church regularly every Sun- 
day and said his prayers into his top -hat with the 
best of us. It is all a question of environment, 
as Henry would remark if he were here. What 
incentive have I, for instance, to be evil? From 
every point of view it pays me better to be re- 
spectable and honorable. If I were really put to 
the test, I might be found wanting.” 

How far Jack’s introspection would have car- 
ried him it is impossible to say, for at this mo- 
ment his meditations were ruthlessly broken in 
upon. 

“Say Mister will you play a little game o’ 
draw?” Tantallon looked up and recognized the 
whiskey-sodden features of Cal Casey. 

“Not to night,” he replied pleasantly. “I’ll 
play to-morrow if you like but not to-night.” 

The man stifled an oath. 

“Yer cleaned me out, boss,” he said sulkily^ 
“ an’ yer ought ter give a man a show.” 

Tantallon hesitated. 

“ I’m goin’ away to-morrer,” insinuated Casey 
artfully, “an’ this is my last chance ter git even. 
I’ve scooped up a few twenties an’ I didn’t think 
yer were the kind o’ man ter back down.” 

“I don’t want to play to-night,” said Jack, 
“but if you put it that WBy I have no choice. 
I’ll give you a ‘ show ’ as you call it.” 


152 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

He followed Casey into the bar-room and sat 
down to a table with some other men. 

For several hours they played on, oblivious of 
time and with varying fortune. At length two 
of the party rose to their feet. 

“ We've had enough,” they said. “ Let’s quit.” 

“ Yer kin quit if yer want to,” said Casey, 
striking the table with his fist, but I an’ this 
yere stranger hev a little account ter settle first. 
He cinched me an’ I’ve not had a chance ter git 
back at him. The luck has just turned fer me 
an’ I’m goin’ ter skin out o’ this early to-morrer.” 

He looked directly at Jack who was feeling 
decidedly bored and sleepy. 

“ Say, boss, let’s play together fer one hour.” 

Tantallon acquiesced wearily. He disliked the 
man intensely and was sorry he had won his money, 
but under the circumstances he was too good- 
natured to refuse him his revenge. 

“ For one hour,” he said, taking out his watch 
and noting the time. “ At half-past eleven I go 
to bed. You understand that clearly ? ” 

Casey eagerly seized the cards and the game 
commenced. 

At first it proceeded but slowly. Tantallon, 
blinded almost with the fumes of whiskey and to- 
bacco smoke, played carelessly and with evident 
lack of interest. Twice his opponent dealt him, 
undetected, magnificent hands which Jack failed 
to take advantage of. The third time, however, 


THE BITER BIT. 


153 


liis suspicions were aroused. He sat up in his 
<3liciir, his keen eyes fixed on Casey’s fingers . 
every faculty alert and on the watch. He held 
himself three knaves and two other cards of no 
consequence. 

“I make it ten dollars to come in,” he said 
after a significant pause. 

Casey who was dealing glanced at his own 
hand. 

“ I raise yer twenty-five,” he said quietly. 

“ And twenty-five better.” 

Casey made good and took up the pack. 

“ How many ? ” he asked. 

“ Two cards,” said Jack. 

Casey gave him a pair of nines and took one 
•card himself. Tantallon, who was watching him, 
saw distinctly that he drew them from the bottom 
of the pack. At the same moment the door be- 
hind his opponent’s chair opened and the figure 
of the Judge appeared. Neither of the men were 
aware of his presence. 

“What do you bet?” asked Jack, coolly. 

“It will take yer jest one hundred dollars ter 
gaze on my hand,” cried Casey with a hoarse 
laugh. 

Tantallon leaped to his feet. 

“You infernal scoundrel,” he shouted, his eyes 
blazing with rage, “you took those last cards 
from the bottom of the pack.” 

Casey tried to snatch the “ pot,” but Jack was 


154 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 


too quick for him. With a vigorous kick he sent 
table, cards and money flying in all directions. 
Nothing but a few feet intervened between the 
two men. 

“ Yer a G — d d d liar,” screamed Casey. 

Tantallon rushed at him furiously, his blood 
boiling at the insult, but the gambler put his hand 
behind him and drew a pistol. 

“ Take that, d . . n yer,” he said savagely, and 
fired point blank at the Englishman’s heart. 

Jack staggered backwards with a groan and at 
the same moment another pistol shot rang out 
through the room. Cal Casey gave one hideous 
shriek and fell headlong beside the man he had 
murdered. The Judge threw down his smoking 
six-shooter and hurried to his friend. With nerv- 
ous, trembling hands he tore open his waistcoat 
and shirt. The blood was welling from a small 
hole a few inches above his heart. 

‘‘Stan’ back,” he yelled, as the rough miners^ 
crowded round. “Stan’ back an’ give him air.” 

One big bearded fellow pushed the others 
aside. 

“ Let me look at him, Jedge. I studied surgery 
years ago and I’ve not forgotten all of it yet.” 

He knelt down and examined the wound care- 
fully. 

“ The bullet has passed right through him ; if 
he can recover from the shock to his system he 
will soon be a well man again. Put him to bed 


THE BITER BIT. 


155 


and tear up some bandages while I take a look at 
the other.” 

The Judge laughed grimly. 

“ Yer needn't take the trouble, Doc ; Cal Casey 
has sent in his checks this time an’ no mistake.” 

As if in answer the wounded man groaned, and 
tried to raise himself upon his elbow, but the 
effort was his last. A rush of blood poured from 
his mouth : there was a short, quick quiver of the 
body, and the gambler had gone, red-handed, to 
his Maker. 


CHAPTER XI. 


JUDGE KETCHUM MEETS HENRY BRITTON. 

“Shot through the body less than an hour 
ago.” 

The words fell upon Britton’s ears with grim 
distinctness. 

“ Shot! ” he cried ; “ Merciful Heaven — I am too 
late ! ” 

“Too late,” repeated the man. “Yer not too 
late, Mister. Yer friend is shot sure enough but 
he ain’t dead yet an’ the doc says that he ain’t 
likely ter die.” 

“ Where is the man who shot him ? ” 

One Thumb pointed expressively to the floor. 

“ Cal’s gone where he belongs,” he said curtly. 

“Do you mean to say that he is dead?” 

“ Deader ’n h . . 1,” replied Taylor. “ The Jedge 
pulled his trigger a second too late ter save yer 
friend, but he got in his work on Cal. He was 
tough as they make them, an’ it’s a derned good 
thing fer the Camp that he’s out of it. I ’lowed 
only yesterday that sitch skunks as he weren’t fit 
company fer decent men.” 

Britton turned to his companion. 

“You had better go to bed, Greatorex ; there 
156 


JUDGE KETCH UM MEETS HENRY BRITTON 157 

is nothing to be done now, and you are fearfully 
tired. I shall sit up with Tantallon, and make 
what arrangements I can for his comfort. Where 
is Mr. Sholto ? ” he asked, turning to Taylor. 

One Thumb pointed across the room. 

“There’s his door,” he said, “if yer’ll knock 
they’ll let yer in, seein’ as yer his pardner.” 

Britton walked to the door indicated and 
tapped gently upon the panel. The man they 
called the “ Doc ” opened it. 

“ What do you want?” he whispered. 

“ I am Mr. Sholto’s most intimate friend. How 
is he ? ” 

“ He’s had the worst kind of a shock, and- his 
left shoulder blade is broken, but he is as strong 
as an ox and his natural vitality will pull him 
through unless inflammation sets in. He is doz- 
ing now ; if you want to see him tread quietly 
and come in.” 

Britton stepped into the room and stood for a 
moment on the threshold, the light from two 
sputtering tallow candles shining full upon his 
pale, stern lineaments. The Judge, who was in 
the shadow, looked up at Britton, and saw the 
face that waking or sleeping had haunted him for 
twenty years: but so changed in expression, 
lined and seamed by the merciless hand of time 
and sorrow, that he failed to recognize it. Brit- 
ton glanced at him carelessly and then bent over 
the body of Tantallon. 


158 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ I have bandaged his wound and he is doing 
as well as could be expected,” said the doctor in 
a low tone. 

Britton beckoned him into the passage. 

“Are you a practising physician?” he asked, 
noting the man’s rude attire and toil-hardened 
hands. 

“No,” he replied, “I am not — at least not at 
present. I don’t look like it, do I ? ” he added 
with a scornful laugh, and a downward glance at 
his ragged overalls. “And yet, I have studied 
in London and Paris. Thompson knows my 
name, and Pasteur too. My diploma T have still, 
but my occupation, like Othello’s, is gone.” He 
pulled a dirty pocket-book out of his vest and ex- 
tracted the document in question. Britton me- 
chanically looked at it and then again at the man. 

“ I can read the question in your eyes that you 
are too polite to ask. You want to know what 
the devil has brought me to this ? I can answer , 
you in three words. Wine — Women — Cards.” 

Britton nodded. 

“ However,” pursued the poor fellow hurriedly, 
“in this case you can depend upon me. In fact 
you must depend upon me, as there is no one else 
ill the country side. Your friend’s case is as sim- 
ple as A B C, but he ought to be moved out of 
this pandemonium. The noise here is enough to 
kill him, to say nothing of the wretched food and 
absolute lack of all sick room necessaries.” 


JUDGE KETCHUM MEETS HENRY BRITTON. 169 

“ Where can he go ? ” asked Britton. 

The doctor produced a piece of plug tobacco 
and took a meditative chew. 

“There is the Judge,” he said at length. 

“ The Judge — What Judge ? ” 

“ He is the man who shot Casey. Casey would 
have emptied his six-shooter into your friend’s 
body if he had had the chance, but the Judge 
was too quick for him. The old man has a ranch 
a mile or two from here, and I have no doubt that 
he would put it at your disposal.” 

“ Can I speak to him now ?” 

The doctor returned into the sick room and put 
his mouth to the Justice’s ear. 

‘"The man outside is Britton, the Britton : I 
know him well by sight. He wants to speak to 
you.” 

The Judge walked out. 

“Judge Ketchum — Mr. Britton — ” said the 
doctor, doing the honors. 

Britton held out his hand. 

“ I am deeply indebted to you,” he said, 
warmly. “ Had it not been for your timely inter- 
ference I should have lost my dearest friend.” 

The Judge took the outstretched hand and 
shook it silently. 

“ The doctor here tells me,” pursued Britton, 
“ that you have a ranch close by. Can you take 
my friend in ?” 

“I kin,” replied Ketchum, “an’ I will.” 


160 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“Are you a married man?” asked Britton. 

“My wife is dead,” said the Judge, “but I hev^ 
a tamily. We don’t live extry high to home, but 
there is always a plenty of cream an’ eggs an’ 
sech like.” 

“ When can he be moved, doctor?” 

“ To-morrow morning, or rather this very 
morning. The earlier the better.” 

“ That will suit you, Judge?” 

“ Why certainly,” said K'etchum. 

He and Britton gazed at each other with 
friendly eyes. It would have been hard to say 
which of the two men had altered the most since 
their last meeting. Both were now bearded, 
whereas then they had been clean shaved. In 
complexion, hair, figure, and dress there was an 
enormous change. The cold calm Henry Britton 
bore no resemblance to tlie passion torn youth, 
frenzied with despairing fury, who had so nearly 
slain the man now standing beside him, while the 
Judge, with advancing years, had almost entirely 
lost that su})erb physique which twenty years ago 
had so impressed itself upon the aching eyes of 
the outraged husband. They met and conversed 
as strangers, and were not a whit the wiser. 

After a few words between the two the Judge 
went to the barn, harnessed his horse, and drove 
home. He reached his shanty about four o’clock 
and aroused his family. His daughter was the 
first to appear. 


JUDGE KETCHUM MEETS HENRY BRITTON. 161 

“ You are back early, pop.” 

“ Ther has bin a friend of mine shot up to the 
camp,” he answered, “ an’ they ’re a goin’ ter 
bring him here. Yer ’ll hev ter vamos (leave) the 
ranch Samanthy, fer I want yer room. Ole lady 
Fitch will take yer in fer a couple o’ weeks, an’ the 
boys kin do the cookin’ till we git a Chinaman.” 

“ Who is the man, popper, do I know him ?” 

“ He is a Britisher o’ the name of Sholto. He’s 
a good one an’ I’m main sorry that he got hurt. 
That skunk. Cal Casey, tried to ring in a cold 
deck OD him, an’ naterally he objected an’ got 
mad. Cal Casey pulled his gun, but lie’ll shoot 
no more, dern his skin, fer I let daylight into him 
myself.” 

“ You killed him ? ” asked the girl, breathlessly. 

“That ’s what I done,” said the Judge, coolly. 
“ He ain’t the first varmint I’ve sent ter blazes an’ 
he won’t be the last if I live long enough. I 
want yer ter fix things up a bit, child; these folks 
air kinder high-toned. One of ’em is Britton.” 

“ My gracious,” cried Samantha. “ Are you 
speaking of Mr. Henry Britton ?” 

His name for years had been a household word. 
In her eyes this Croesus of the mines was a 
second Monte-Cristo ; the personification of wit, 
strength, splendor and manly beauty. And now 
— this fairy prince was about to materialize. Then 
she remembered old lady Fitch, who was obese, 
deaf and uncleanly. 

11 


162 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“Can’t I stay and do the cooking?” she asked, 
in coaxing accents. 

The Judge shook his head doubtfully. 

“The boys,” urged Samantha, “ain’t much on 
the cook, and maybe you won’t find a Chinaman. 
If you do they are dirty and Jeff (a neighboring 
cowboy) says that when it comes to stealing that 
Barabbas himself would have to take a back seat.” 

“I want yer room,” said the Judge ; “it ain’t a 
bridal chamber, but it’s the best we hev.” 

“ I can sleep anywhere.’’ 

“Naterally. Yer young an’ yer healthy, but 
the proprieties hev ter be observed. With these 
young men around yer need a chaperong, an’ I 
rekon that ole lady Fitch will jest fill the bill.” 
Then seeing the look of piteous entreaty upon her 
pretty face, he added : 

“ If yer a good girl an’ make no fuss I’ll fetch 
yer down here one fine day an’ let yer take a look 
at Britton. Yer want to see him, I know, an’ I 
tell ye that yer ’ll be disappointed sure. He ain’t 
no fancy man, he ain’t. His face is as homely as 
a dutch cheese, an’ as yaller. Now Jack, that ’s 
the Britisher, is as fine a young feller as yer’d wish 
ter meet. Stout as a bull, hard as a Boston 
cracker, and straight as a string in mind and body. 
Why a woman wouldn’t look at Britton if his 
pardner was near by. He’s thin as a rail, so thin 
that he might hide himself behind a telegraph 
pole an’ yer wouldn’t know whar’ the cuss was. 


JUDGE KETCHUM MEETS HENRY BRITTON. 163 


However he thinks the world of Jack, an’ took on 
terribly when he heard that he was hurt.” 

The girl said no more but resumed her work. 
It was finally settled that, after breakfast, she 
should saddle a horse and ride over to the house of 
Mrs. Fitch. 

The Judge kissed her good-bye and chucked 
her paternally under her round and dimpled chin. 

Be a good little girl, Samanthy, an’ give my 
respects to the ole lady.” 

He watched her slim lissom figure until it was 
out of sight and shook his head many times. 

•‘She grows more like her mother every day,” 
he muttered, “but I hope it is the good in her that 
is croppin’ out an’ not the bad. There was a 
plenty of both in poor Alice, but the bad knocked 
out the good, fer which, of course, I was partly 
ter blame. A woman ’s a curous critter anyhow; 
yer never know what they’re made of ontil 3^er 
test them. I’d stake my life that Samanthy’s 
sterlin’ silver. But she may turn out nickel, like 
her mother. A man ’s no match fer a woman ; 
she'll fool him every time if slie gives her mind to 
it. The Lord made man in his own likeness an’ 
he done well ; but he made woman out of a j)esky 
rib, an’ thar, in my jedgment, he done ill. The 
best o’ ribs is crooked, an’, dern it all, what is 
bred in the bone will come out naterally in the 
flesh.” 


CHAPTER XTI. 


THE PAINTED CA^ON. 

The homestead of Judge Cephas Ketchnm was 
pleasantly situated in a small valley, known to the 
miners and cowboys of the vicinity, as the 
“Painted Canon,” so called from some curious, 
vermilion-hued hieroglyphics that were to be 
found upon the face of a precipitous cliff; the 
work, in all probability, of Digger Indians. 

The ranch, from a utilitarian point of view pre- 
sented few attractive features either to the farmer 
or stockman ; for it consisted mainly of steep 
pine-clad hills whose rocky surface afforded a com- 
fortable and secure retreat to the rattlesnakes and 
tarantulas that infested them. The valley proper, 
however, blessed with a generous alluvial soil, was 
fertile enough; and the brains of the Judge sup- 
plemented by the muscles of his young boys had 
turned it into a veritable Eden. A stream of 
clear mountain water, alive with speckled trout, 
tinkled musically through the centre of the canon, 
and, by means of an artificial dam, irrigated a 
couple of meadows of alfalfa, thereby affording 
green feed throughout the year to a small herd of 
dairy cows. The house, or rather shanty, bosomed 
164 


THE PAINTED CANON. 


165 


in orchard trees, was built of gigantic pine logs, 
notched and plastered with adobe, and the Judge 
who could turn his hand to anything had pan- 
elled the interior with redwood, which gave an 
air of comfort to the otherwise crude furnish- 
ings. A rustic veranda, festooned with trailing 
vines, surrounded the cabin, from which two low 
steps led to a carefully tended garden, rich in old- 
fashioned flowers and fragrant at the proper sea- 
sons with the scents of heliotrope, lavender and 
jessamine. A better spot for a sanitarium it would 
have been hard to find, for the valley was so shel- 
tered that even in February, when the neighbor- 
ing mountains were knee deep in snow, it was pos- 
sible for a convalescent to sit on the porch and in- 
hale gratefully the aromatic health-bearing breezes 
that swept up the canon, laden with ozone from 
the Pacific, and rosin from the soughing, waving 
pines. 

To this oasis in the desert of frowning hills and 
rocky wastes. Jack Tantallon was carried upon a 
rude litter made of soft odorous spruce tops, and 
once there his health and strength rapidly came 
back to him. Day after day his couch, a ranch 
sofa, was wheeled out upon the veranda either by 
his friend Britton or, in his absence, the Judge, 
and the three men thus strangely thrown together 
smoked, told stories, laughed, played cards and 
talked politics from morning till night. 

“This Judge is a splendid fellow,” said Britton 


166 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

to Tantallou some ten clays after the latter’s ar- 
rival at the Painted Canon, “A veritable rough 
diamond.” 

“A capital chap,” assented Jack. 

“ Curiously enough,” pursued Britton, “ his face 
is someway familiar to me. I have seen him be- 
fore but I cannot for the life of me say where. 
There is a ring too in his voice that haunts me. 
We both owe him a debt of gratitude that it will 
be hard to repay : it would be out of the question 
to offer him money and I cannot think of any- 
thing else.” 

H*e sent his daughter away so that you could 
have her room, Henry. I wonder how many of 
what the Judge calls our high-toned friends, 
would do that for us.” 

‘‘ Very few,” said Britton. 

‘‘ He lays claim to blue blood,” proceeded Jack, 
“ and was at some pains to impress me with the 
fact that he was the grandson of a peer.” 

“ Why not? ” asked Britton. He has an inde- 
finable air of good breeding, and stranger things 
have happened. Princes have been found here in 
the clothes of common laborers.” 

A few days later Britton left the Painted Canon. 
His interests in San Francisco had suffered greatly 
by his enforced absence, and at Tantallon’s urg- 
ent entreaty he returned to his office and the 
multifarious cares of a billionaire. His friend 
was now so far recovered that he could walk 


THE PAINTED CANON. 


167 


slowly about with the aid of a stout stick, but 
the doctor who had remained in faithful attend- 
ance, vetoed the question of any travelling. 

“ You must stay here for another month at least,” 
he declared. “ The jolting of that infernal stage 
might, and probably would, re-open your wound, 
and produce endless complications.” 

Long before his departure Britton, with the aid 
of his attorney, Greatorex, instigated a thorough 
and exhaustive inquiry into the construction of 
the flume and the expenditure of monies in con- 
nection therewith. The arch scoundrels, Collins 
and Pollard, were summarily arrested and re- 
moved to the county town, there to await their 
trial. The secret of the attempt upon Tantallon’s 
life perished with Cal Casey; and though sus- 
picion, in the person of Judge Ketchum, sug- 
gested to Britton that in all probability Pollard 
and Collins had been implicated in the affair, no 
substantial proof was forthcoming and the two 
men were indicted upon the minor charges of em- 
bezzlement, breach of trust and criminal negli- 
gence. As they appear no more in these pages 
it may interest the reader to hear that in due 
time an intelligent jury of their fellow country- 
men brought in a verdict of guilty upon all three 
counts, and the eminent jurist who passed sen- 
tence, said, that a more flagitious and wholesale 
system of robbery and fraud, combined with crim- 
inal and heartless effrontery, had never come be- 


168 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

fore his notice. That, in his opinion, the opinion 
of an old miner, the prisoners were to be con- 
gratulated upon finding themselves within the 
protecting arm of the law they had so grievously 
offended ; for he ventured to assert, without fear 
of contradiction, that the miners of Hard Scratch, 
had tliey been aware of the hideous danger to 
which the cupidity of the accused had exposed 
them, would doubtless have taken the question of 
sentence out of his, the Judge’s hands; and that 
a long rope and a short shrift would have been 
the fitting reward of their dastardly rascality. In 
consigning them to penal servitude for a term of 
ten years he trusted that the wholesome disci- 
pline of San Quentin would bring them to a sense 
of the enormity of their crime ; and that their 
example would prove a warning to others placed 
in positions of trust with the means and oppor- 
tunity of abusing instead of using it. The crest- 
fallen prisoners, who had been led to hope for a 
much lighter sentence, were removed to San 
Quentin, the future scene of their labors. Col- 
lins, who was a wealthy man, had given heavy 
bonds to secure his contract and he was mulcted 
in these to a large amount. The original flume 
was overhauled and practically rebuilt. 

To return to our story. After Britton’s de- 
parture the Judge sent for his daughter, to whom 
Jack Tantallon was duly presented. This mount- 
ain nymph, whose environment had been of the 


THE PAINTED CANON. 


169 


rudest, who as a child had run barefoot and bare- 
headed over the ranch, who had tended her fath- 
er’s cows and sheep under burning suns and 
through blinding storms, who sat more gracefully 
on a horse than she did on a chair, who was fa- 
miliar with the wash tub but had never seen a 
finger-glass, — this child of Nature had the bear- 
ing of a princess, and the delicate features of a 
court beauty. 

“ Where does it come from ? ” wondered Jack, 
as he shook her small, brown hand, and in a few 
courteous phrases apologized for the trouble to 
which he and his friend had subjected her. 
“ Where does it come from,” he repeated to him- 
self, when she retreated presently to the kitchen. 
“ She looks like a Plantagenet and her father is 
Cephas Ketchum ! ” 

When he was alone with the Judge, after their 
frugal supper, he congratulated him heartily upon 
being the parent of so much beauty and modesty. 

“ Her face would make a sensation in London,” 
said Jack ; little thinking that the spirit of proph- 
ecy was upon him. 

“ She’s a good girl,” said the Judge, carelessly, 
an’ thar’s this in her favor — she’s got nothing 
to unlearn. Her head’s level ; an’ that’s the main 
thing where women folks is consarned. I give 
her a good eddication anyway.” 

“Her mother must have been a beautiful 
woman,” said Tantallon. 


170 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

A stern expression flitted across the Judge’s^ 
face. 

“Her mother is dead,” he replied, curtly, and 
Jack saw that the subject was a sore one. 

“ By-the-bye,” he remarked presently, “you 
were telling me about your family the other day 
— and speaking about a signet ring. Have you 
got it here ? ” 

The Judge made no reply, but went to a cup- 
board. When he emerged from its dim recesses 
he held in his hand a small tin box. This he 
carefully dusted and placed upon the table. Jack 
looked at it with interest. The Judge apparently 
was in no particular hurry to open it, for, after 
placing the key in the lock, he sat down. 

“ There’s nothing inside but papers and my 
mother’s marriage certificate. She was always 
mighty keerful o’ that.” 

“Your mother told you, if I remember cor- 
rectly, that you were the grandson of an English 

o 

peer ' 

“Yes sir — an English lord. ‘ Yer gran ’father, 
the old lady would say, ‘ yer gran’father, Cephas, 
is an English lord an’ dines off solid silver every 
day of the week.’ ” 

“ It sounds well. Judge, but the meat tastes 
better off common china.” 

“ Hev yer eaten off solid silver. Jack ? ” 

“ Many times,” said Tantallon with a slight 
smile. 


THE PAINTED CANON. 


171 


“ Yer don’t say,” ejaculated the Judge in a tone 
of wonder. “ Wal I want ter know ! ” 

He bit off a piece of plug tobacco and chewed it 
for some moments in silence. 

“ May be yer acquainted with a lord or two yer- 
self, Jack.” 

Jack admitted that in the course of his wander- 
ings he had met one or more of those blue-blooded 
and highly favored individuals. 

“ I’d like ter see a real lord,” said the Judge 
with emphasis, “an’ ask him a few questions 
about Queen Victory, an’ the aristocracy.” 

“ They ’re very ordinary people,” said Jack ; “ I 
can assure you. Judge, that a live lord without his 
ooronet looks very much like anybody else.” 

The Judge shook his head. 

“ It’s no use a talkin,’ Jack, a lord ’s a lord — 
he don't look like you an’ me.” 

Hitherto Tantallon had kept his incognito 
strictly. Having registered at the “ Grand Hotel ” 
as plain John Sholto he had not seen the neces- 
sity of telling his worthy host his true name. Now 
as he saw it would please and surprise him he de- 
termined to enlighten him. 

“ You think that I do not look like a lord, eh 
Judge?” 

“ Wal,” replied the Notary Public, “no. Yer a 
fine young man. Jack, jest as well put up as I wish 
ter see; but ther ain’t much wal — dignity I reckon 
is the word — ther ain’t much dignity to yer.” 


172 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

Jack laughed. 

“ Look here, old fellow, I don’t want to break 
up all your pretty little bubbles of romance ; but 
if it would gratify you to meet a lord and ask 
him questions I feel it my bounden duty to afford 
you that simple gratification.” 

Kin yer shew me a real lord, Jack ? ” 

“ I can,” said Tantallon. “ Moreover I’ll guar- 
antee that he’ll answer all the questions you see 
fit to put to him, or at any rate try to.” 

“When kin I see the critter,” asked the Judge 
with his hand still on the box in front of him. 

“ You can see him,” said Jack solemnly, — 
“ now ! ” 

“ Where?” asked the astonished Justice of the 
Peace. 

Jack stood up and tapped himself melo-dramati- 
cally on the chest. 

“ Here,” he said gravely. Then overwhelmed 
with the absurdity of the situation, he fell back 
in his chair and fairly shouted with laughter. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


TEMPTATION. 

The Judge was the first to recover himself. 

“ D’yer mean ter tell me that yer a lord yerself, 
Jack?” 

Tantallon sat up in his chair, still red and ex- 
hausted from laughing. 

“ I am indeed, Judge.” 

“Pshaw! Yer jokin’. Don’t fool with an old 
man. Jack.” 

“ I am perfectly serious in Avhat I say. Judge.” 

“Wal,” remarked the Justice, “if yer don’t 
look like a lord. Jack, I’ll say this for yer, yer 
don’t look like a liar neither. If yer tell me, 
honest Injun, that it’s so, why G — d d — n it I’ll 
believe it ; but I am a son-of-a-gun if it don’t beat 
all.” 

“ It is true enough,” said Jack lightly, “ if I had 
my deserts I should probably be a crossing sweeper. 
As it is I am an hereditary legislator and can eat 
off solid silver if I want to — which mind you, 1 
don’t — every day of the week. Now then, old 
chap, fire away with your questions.” 

But the Judge had no questions to ask. He 
was so astonished that words failed him. He got 

173 


174 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


up, walked round Jack, insisted on shaking hands, 
and finally, as a last resort, produced the inevit- 
able whisky bottle. 

“Let’s take a smile together,” he stammered, as 
he wiped the perspiration from his brow. 

The fiery Bourbon restored him his speech. 

“ Say, Jack,” he began — “ I mean ...” 

“ Call me Jack,” said Tantallon. “ I like it. 
And remember that what I have told you is in 
confidence. I am Mr. Sholto here, nothing more. 
What were you about to say. Judge? ” 

“1 want ter know,” said the Judge, “if yer 
wear a crown when yer to home — in England I 
mean.” 

“To tell you the truth, I don’t,” replied Jack. 
“ It’s bad taste on my part, but I prefer a hat.” 

“ Ye’re right,” cried the old man. “ I’d as soon 
stick my head into a hole in the ground as into a 
crown. One may be a lord and yet have some 
sense.” 

“You mus’n’t expect too much of us,” said 
Jack. 

“There’s another thing,” pursued the Judge, 
“ that I’d like ter know. I read the papers here 
and they throw a heap o’ dirt at English lords. 
They make ’em out to be the derndest, meanest 
cusses that walk the earth. That’s one reason 
why I wanted ter see one an’ judge fer myself. I 
guessed that ther Chronicle man was lyin’. Ther’s 
nothin’ mean about you. Jack.” 


TEMPTATION. 


175 


Tantallon ackowledged this indirect compli- 
ment with a nod. 

“ And ther’s still another thing,” said the Judge. 
“ I suppose yer came here ter marry an heiress, 
so as ter gild yer faded escutcheon — eh ? ” 

He brought out this phrase, clipped from the 
penny-a-liners, with evident pride. 

“No,” replied Jack, “I had no such object in 
view.” 

“The dirty liars,” exclaimed the Judge, allud- 
ing in general terms to the San Franciscan press. 

“Fve often said to the boys that them editors 
made their livin’ by lyin’, an’ now I know it. 
Yer see,” he added apologetically, “I’m a Republi- 
can, an’ proud of it, but bein' English born, an’ 
the gran’son of a lord, I kinder felt badly at bearin’ 
them aristocrats abused.” 

“Naturally,” said Jack, “and that reminds me. 
Judge, you have not shown me your signet ring.” 

The old man made no answer but proceeded to 
unlock the small japanned case in front of him. 

After a short delay he found the ring and 
handed it to Jack. 

It bore the same coat of arms as the one that 
Tantallon wore on his little finger. 

Jack examined it curiously and then returned 
it to its owner. 

“ I wonder how it came into your father’s pos- 
session,” he said. “ It must at some time have be- 
longed to a member of my family.” 


176 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM . 

“That ther ring,” said the Judge solemnly, “be- 
longed to my father, an’ that ther coat of arms 
was his coat of arms. I hev’ heard my mother 
say so.” 

“ Let me see your papers. Judge.” 

The Hon. Cephas pulled out of the box a few 
letters and a faded, yellow document. 

“This,” he said, “is my mother’s marriage cer- 
tificate — her marriage lines as she called them.” 

Jack glanced at the time worn characters. 

Mary Jane Ketchum, 
and 

Duncan Sanquhar Tantallon. 

The two names stood out upon the paper as if 
branded there in letters of living flame. 

“Your father’s name was Duncan Sanquhar 
Tantallon ? ” he asked in tones that trembled per- 
ceptibly. 

“That was his name,” answered the Judge, 
“an’ a doggoned name too. He was drowned on 
the voyage out here — before I was born — an’ my 
mother give me her own name. My father’s folks 
went back on her, an’ so she went back on them. 
She was a woman of speerit, an’ it’s my opinion 
that she done well.” 

Tantallon sat silently before the fire, looking at 
the burning logs with startled eyes. 

“ Here’s his picter,” proceeded the Judge. 
“When I was a young man I looked the very 


TEMPTATION. 


177 


moral of him. If I shaved off this beard o’ mine 
an’ spruced up a bit, yer’d see the resemblance 
yet/’ 

He took out of the box an old shagreen case 
and gave it to his companion. One glance at the 
face inside was sufficient for our poor hero. He 
recognized instantly the features of the unfortu- 
nate great uncle whose story old Lord Tantallon 
had told him. In fact, the miniature was a copy 
of the picture that hung in the gallery at Tantal- 
lon. The atmosphere of the room suddenly be- 
came oppressive. He rose unsteadily to his feet, 
and looked at the Judge. 

“ I am afraid,” he said, nervously, “ that the 
heat of this fire has been too much for me. I will 
take a turn in the garden and then come in 
again.” 

The Judge hastily offered him his assistance. 

“No,” said Tantallon, firmly. “ Remain here, 
Judge. I will go alone.” 

Once outside he tried vainly to stem the toi-- 
rent of maddening thought that surged wildly 
through his brain. With hands pressed to his 
temples he sat, bowed and bent, upon the steps of 
the veranda, while the cool breeze played fitfully 
with his disheveled hair. 

The shock of discovery had been very great. 
He was in the position of a man walking unwit- 
tingly on the verge of a fearful chasm and who 
suddenly realized, to his horror, that the ground 
12 


178 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

he had deemed so secure is slipping from his feet. 
Fortune, title and position were at stake. It is 
true that he had not particularly prized the pos» 
session of them, had treated them as a matter of 
course ; but their threatened loss overwhelmed 
him with dismay. He had not been aware of any 
change in himself since his uncle’s death ; but a 
great change, nevertheless, had taken place. 
His intercourse with Britton had exercised a 
marked influence upon his character. It had 
widened his sympathies and broadened his views 
upon every vital question. The intellect of his 
friend was so lucidly comprehensive in its scope, 
and at the same time so technically trained to the 
mastery of apparently insignificant details that 
his presentment of facts and theories possessed 
a force and originality that both instructed and 
delighted. Tantallon, witli his headstrong, pas- 
sionate nature crushed and humiliated under the 
remorseless heel of fate, had greedily absorbed 
and assimilated the healing balm of Henry Brit- 
ton’s practical philanthropy. It represented to 
liim for the moment all that made life worth liv- 
ing. In the eyes of men he occupied a great posi- 
tion, controlled vast interests, wielded enormous 
influence and for good or evil was one of the 
powers that be. He had vowed that on his re- 
turn to England he would use his wealth, as a 
nobleman should use wealth — nobly ; that the 
world should be the better because he. Jack Tan- 


TEMPTATION. 


179 


tallon, had lived; tliat tlie duties and responsibili- 
ties that awaited him should be manfully faced 
and faithfully fulfilled to the full extent of his 
means and ability. He had promised all this and 
more to himself ; and the savor of these good 
prospective deeds had smelled sweet in his nostrils. 
He had discovered the immortal truth — that he 
wlio lives for others lives a fuller, happier life than 
he who lives only for himself. 

It was natural under the circumstances that he 
should have confused the means by which this 
“fuller, happier life” was to be attained. It ap- 
peared to him, as it has appeared to wiser men, that 
the measure of his future happiness depended 
upon the measure and extent of his good works. 
Providence had denied him the supreme wish of 
his heart, but, as some compensation, had placed 
in liis hand great wealth, and in his heart the 
earnest desire to use it for the benefit of others. 
In his mind there were two things indissolubly 
linked together; great wealth and the wish to 
spend it profitably. The loss of the one entailed 
the non-fulfillment of the other. And now, not 
only was he threatened with the loss of those 
solid advantages that the world prizes, but what 
to him was of far more moment, his plans and 
resolutions for the future. As he floundered 
helplessly in the quagmire that he had fondly be- 
lieved to be firm ground. Jack Tantallon was beset 
by a terrible temptation. 


180 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“Why,” whispered the fiend, “why make these 
damaging facts known ? If you suppress them it 
will be infinitely better for the community in gen- 
eral and your tenants in particular. This ignorant 
old man has not been educated for the position 
you occupy : he will make an honored name ridic- 
ulous, he will possibly waste the property ; and 
he cannot be either healthier or happier for the 
change in his fortunes.” 

Thus the voice of Evil. 

The temptation was a sore one and it must be 
placed to Jack’s credit that he resisted it man- 
fully and scorned, like the good fellow he was, to 
take advantage of his opportunity. Had he so 
chosen, the romance of Judge Ketchum would 
have been a sealed book to all save himself. He 
ran no risk of discovery. The old man had no 
suspicion of the greatness that awaited him. Upon 
the plea of investigating the matter he might 
easily have obtained possession of the fateful mar- 
riage lines and destroyed them. Who would be 
the wiser? Not a single living soul ! 

Having decided, however, to speak the truth, 
it never occurred to Jack to wait. Most men 
would at least have consulted their lawyers, or 
temporized until a suitable inquiry could be in- 
stituted. But not so Jack. A wrong had been 
unintentionally committed. Of that fact he was 
satisfied. According to his lights it devolved 
upon him to rectify that wrong immediately. 


TEMPT A TIOK. 


181 


He walked back into the little panelled sitting- 
room with a firmer step than he had walked out 
of it half an hour before. His features were pale 
but composed ; and as he crossed the threshold a 
slight smile played about the corners of his pleas- 
ant mouth. For his sense of humor was tickled. 
The Earl of Tantallon was lying back in his 
chair, his heels upon the mantel-shelf, fast asleep 
and snoring loudly ! 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

Tantallon touched the sleeping man lightly 
on the shoulder. 

“ I am sorry to disturb your dreams, Judge, but 
I want to talk to you.” 

The Judge stretched himself and yawned. 

“ Hadn’t we better go to bed ? ” he asked, doubt- 
fully. 

“No,” replied Jack. 

He sat down opposite the old man and stared 
hard at his shrewd, weather-beaten countenance. 
How blind he had been ! Why the man bore his 
parentage plainly printed upon his face. He 
looked, apart from his rough clothes and horny 
hands, every inch a Tantallon. 

“ It surprised you to learn that I was a lord, eh, 
Judge?” 

“Wal,” replied the Hon. Cephas, “it kinder 
knocked me out at first, but, I reckon I’ll git 
used ter the idee in time. Yer couldn’t help yer- 
self, Jack, an’ a man is not responsible for the 
mistakes of others. It ain’t exactly respectable 
ter be a lord in these days, but I will say yer a 
credit ter them as raised yer.” 

182 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


183 


“You are a poor man, Judge?” asked Jack, 
suddenly. 

“ That’s as may be. Jack. I’m well fixed ac- 
cordin’ ter my notion, but my income ain’t a lordly 
one — not much.” 

“ You have led a hard life ? ” 

“ I hev,” admitted Ketchum. “ I’ve led a rough 
an’ a tough life. It ain’t bin no box at the opery. 
Yer kill bet yer bottom dollar on that.” 

“ Suppose,” said Jack, slowly, “suppose for the 
moment that you could change places with me : 
that you had what you have never even dreamed 
of having a splendid position, an illustrious name 
and great wealth. How would you like it ? ” 

The Judge shook his head. 

“ I don’t know,” he replied, “ it ain’t possible 
fer me ter place myself in that there posish.” 

“And yet,” said Jack impressively, “according 
to these papers of yours you are exactly in that 
‘posish,’ as you call it, and no other. At this very 
moment you are a peer of the realm, you have 
an income of over fifty thousand pounds a year, 
you have castles and lands and jewels and all the 
rest of it. You have only to stretch out your 
hands and take them.” 

He had risen to his feet in his excitement. 

The Judge lay back in his chair and laughed at 
him. 

“ Yer crazy. Jack, jest as crazy as a June 
bug.” 


184 THE E03fANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“I am as sane as you are, Judge. Look here 
while I try to make the case clear to you.” 

He took up a pencil and a piece of paper. 

“We will start with the eleventh earl of Tan- 
tallon. He was your grandfather and my great- 
grandfather. This joint ancestor of ours had 
five sons. His eldest was Lord Cantire. With 
him we have nothing to do ; he died unmarried 
before his father. His second son was your father, 
Duncan Sanquhar Tantallon. His third son was 
my great-uncle, the late Earl ; and his fourth son 
was my grandfather. Further than that we need 
not go. After Lord Cantire’s death the next in 
succession would have been your father, but it was 
known that he had died at sea. It was also known 
that he had secretly married the daughter of a 
publican at Manchester, your mother ; but it was 
not known that he had left you behind him. 
The succession consequently passed you by and 
went to my great-uncle and from him, by a series 
of deaths, to me. For over sixty years you have 
lived in ignorance of your true position. It is my 
duty to restore it to you.” 

The Judge looked intently at the rough pedi- 
gree that the young man had traced upon the 
paper, and followed its simple ramifications with 
a broad and dirty finger. 

“ Then yer not a lord after all. Jack ? ” 

“No, Judge, I’m what I was a few months’ 
back — plain Jack Tantallon.” 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


185 


“ Air you still rich, Jack ?” 

“ I am a poor man,” said Tantallon simply. 

An’ yer ready ter give it all up ter me with- 
out a word.” 

It is m}^ unpleasant duty. Judge; I don’t do 
it from choice I can assure you.” 

“Duty be damned,” cried the Hon Cephas. 
“ Yer needn’t hev told me this an’ I’m sure that 
I’d never hev found it out fer myself. Why in 
thunder didn’t yer keep yer mouth shet? ” 

Jack got very red. 

“ There is such a thing as honor,” he said 
gravely. 

“ By God there is,” cried the old man, nearly 
wringing off Jack’s hand in his excitement. 
“ But it looks to me as if some folks had a mon- 
opoly of it, an’ kep it ter themselves. We want 
a little of it round this yere camp; but I reckon 
the whiskey kills it. I knew yer couldn’t be a 
lord. Jack. A lord would hev acted different. 
He’d a kep’ what he could, an’ corralled every 
denied cent in sight : that’s what a lord would 
hev done. Hold on,” he continued as Jack was 
about to interrupt him, “ I ain’t through yet, an’ 
yer mustn’t contradict the court, or he’ll commit 
yer fer contempt. If yer think that I’m mean 
enough ter take advantage of yer offer, yer way 
off. Yer kin keep what yer hev an’ welcome ; 
but I’m everlastingly obligated ter yer fer makin’ 
the offer. It makes me feel well to think yer 


186 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

made it. It shews me that there air still some 
men left in the world; an’ livin’ here in Hard 
Scratch a feller is apt ter lose his faith in human 
natur, if he ever had any. Yer ’ve acted like a 
gentleman, Jack. Yer ’ve made yer proposition 
an’ I’ve refused it. Now let’s go ter bed.” 

“ You have had your say,” said Jack obstina- 
nately, “ and now you must listen to me. Upon 
your own confession you have had a precious 
rough time of it for nearly sixty years; and yet, 
all this weary time, fortune and the good things 
of life have been waiting for you upon the other 
side of the pond. It is a terrible thing to think 
of this wrong that has been done you uninten- 
tionally. It is almost impossible to realize it.” 

“That’s true enough,” admitted the Judge. 
“ Yer a slick talker. Jack, and yer put it strong; 
but yer forgit one fact, an’ as I always say, facts 
tell. Yer can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I’ve 
sot an’ sot in this yere groove till I’vetuk root ; an’ 
at my age a man don't bear transplantin’.” 

“Leaving yourself out of the question there 
are your children.” 

“ My children,” repeated the Judge blankly. 

“ Certainly. Your eldest son is Lord Cantire. 
Your daughter is Lady Samantha Tantallon. 
These are facts too.” 

“Oh, my God,” cried the Judge, and covered 
his face with his hands. 

Jack stared at him in undisguised astonishment. 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


187 


It was evident that the old man had fallen a prey 
to the most violent and uncalled-for emotion. 
Presently he lifted his head and Jack saw the tell- 
tale lines of suffering round his mouth and eyes. 

“Hang it all, Judge, don’t take it like this. 
You seem to have a natural antipathy to lords, 
but believe me, there are still some agreeable and 
respected people left in the peerage. Don’t judge 
them by what you read in the papers. There are 
black sheep in every class.” 

“ It’s not that. Jack ; It’s not that.” 

“Whatever it is,” said Tantallon a little im- 
patiently, “you are bound to consider your chil- 
dren.” 

“ That’s your honest opinion, is it ? A man is 
bound ter consider his children particularly when 
they’re good children, an’ dutiful ? ” 

“ Certainly. Children ought to be, and I sup- 
pose they generally are, a man’s first considera- 
tion.” 

“ They hadn’t oughter suffer fer the sins of 
their parents ? ” he inquired anxiously. 

“In this case. Judge, your duty is as plain 
as mine. You must accept your responsibili- 
ties and obligations whether you like them or 
not. You won’t find this a change for the worse. 
It is no joke going from Olympus to Hades, but 
the other way about is pleasant enough.” 

“ You’ll stand by me. Jack, an’ help me out ? ” 

The young man hesitated. He knew that he 


188 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


could be of infinite service to his kinsman ; but 
the office of bear-leader to this elderly bruin was 
especially repugnant to him. He would have to 
face the ridicule, the barbed innuendo, and, worst 
of all, the contemptuous pity of an uncharitable 
world. He would have to endure the daily and 
hourly mortification of seeing another man in 
what he had believed to be his own particular 
place. On the other hand if he left this old man 
to his own devices he would infallibly fall a prey 
to adventurers, in whose hands he would be 
plucked unmercifully.” 

“ I will do what I can,” he said at last. 

“I knew yer wouldn’t go back on me,” said the 
Judge, not without emotion. “ I speak rough an’ 
look rough. Jack ; but I kin appreciate a kindness 
as well as the finest aristocrat as ever lived. 
There’s another thing, yer won’t hev ter be 
ashamed of the old man long.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean,” replied the Judge impressively, “ that . 
I shan’t live long after I git out o’ my husk here. 
When yer pull up an old tree by the roots it soon 
dies.” 

Jack did his best to cheer him up, but he saw 
that some sorrow was weighing heavily upon him. 
He supposed that it bore reference to his dead 
wife ; but as the Judge made no mention of her,, 
Jack respected his silence and asked no ques- 
tions. 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


189 


When the two men shook hands before retiring 
for the night, the Judge made rather a curious 
speech. 

“ This won’t make much difference to you, 
Jack,” he said earnestly. “ Everything will come 
right in the end, an’ yer’ll always hev the satis- 
faction of knowin’ that yer acted squar’ an’ true.” 

Jack Tantallon went to bed, but not to sleep. 


CHAPTER XV. 


PLANS. 

“ You intend to leave your boys in America ? ” 

“ Yes sir, I do. The boys air rough, although 
they’re good boys; an’ not bein’ a flinty-hearted 
parent I won’t fire ’em into the perlite world with- 
out a little trimmin’ down. As far as I’m con- 
sarned it don’t make no matter. I kin take care 
of myself ; but the boys ought ter hev a fair show, 
an’ by gosh. I’ll see that they git it.” 

“ You could find a private tutor for them in 
England.” 

“ No,” said the Judge. “A private tooter they’ll 
hev, an’ the best that cash down kin buy ; but the 
tootering will be done on this side o’ the pond. 
England is a mighty small place ; an’ it’d soon 
come to Queen Victory’s ears that my boys were 
different ter other boys, an’ that would hurt them 
an’ hurt me. Let ’em git shaped up over here, 
an’ when it comes ter the final polish we’ll renoo 
the argument. Why, dern it ! fer five cents I’d 
stay here myself ; I want ter see the old country 
before I die, an’ I’d like ter ventilate my idees 
there, fer it seems ter me you Britishers hev a 
heap ter learn, an’ of course yer ain’t had the 
190 


PLANS. 


191 


advantages of a freeborn American citizen, but I 
hate ter jump another man’s claim ; an’ it ’pears 
ter me that in goin’ to England an’ hobnobbin’ 
with dooks an’ marquises an’ sech like I’m bitin’ 
off more than Cephas Ketchum kin chew. A man 
may be pretty smart in Hard Scratch, but aderned 
fool in high-toned society ! ” 

Jack laughed. 

‘'You can leave your family behind if you like. 
Judge ; but you will have to come to England 
with me yourself. There are formalities of all 
sorts to be complied with before you can lawfully 
get possession of what belongs to you.” 

“ Better let it slide,” said the Judge after a 
pause. “See here Jack, you kin give me a lump 
sum down an’ we’ll call it sqnar.” 

“We settled that last night. Judge. For 
Heaven's sake don’t let’s have it all over again. 
You must come to England with me. What is 
more you must furnish proof of your identity in 
this country.” 

“That won’t be difficult,” said the Judge, “I 
was through the war an’ I’m drawing a pension 
from Uncle Sam at this very minute.” 

“You were born in Vermont? ” 

The Judge nodded. 

“ There are people living who knew your mother 
personally ? ” 

“ Plenty of them,” said the Judge. “The ole 
lady has bin dead a matter of ten years ; but back 


192 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


in Vermont I could find a thousand persons ter 
swear ter me an’ ter swear to her. Do yer see 
this ? ” 

He pointed to a small copper medallion in the 
lapel of his coat. 

‘‘That,” said he, “is a sign that I’m a soldier 
of the Grand Army of the Republic. At head- 
quarters the name of Cephas Ketchum is well 
known, an’ honnerably. I’m as well acquainted 
back whar I was raised as you air. Jack, in yer 
own home.” 

What will you do with your daughter, Judge ? 
Leave her behind too ? ” 

“ Wal,” said the Justice thoughtfully. “ Sa- 
manthy must come with us, fer I can't an’ won’t 
let her run around loose. A girl is naterally 
different from a boy. She catches on quicker, an’ 
takes a holt o’ things. Samanthy is peart an’ 
has had a fair public school education. She kin 
sing some, an’ she ain’t no slouch at the planner, 
Samanthy ain’t. She’ll fall into line, an’ put on 
style with the best of them.” 

“She is a very nice girl,” said Jack, cordially. 
“ Why did you not bring her down when Britton 
was here ? ” 

“ She was kinder stuck on seein’ Britton,” said 
the Judge, “but I’m a son-of-a-gun if I didn’t tee- 
totally forgit all about her until after he’d gone.” 

“ When are you going to tell your children the 
news ? ” 


PLANS. 


193 


The Hon. Cephas screwed up his face in comical 
perplexity. 

“ Jack,” he said at last ; “ I don’t want ter tell 
them at all.” 

‘'You must tell them sooner or later.” 

“It’s like this, Jack. Yer don’t know this 
country an’ the people as I do. Now I’ll ask you 
a question. When yer landed in San Francisco 
did you register as an English lord ? ” 

“I did.” 

“Did yer receive much attention?” 

“A good deal.” 

“ Didn’t them high-toned Nob Hill folks lay 
’emselves out for yer ? Didn’t they nearly bust 
’emselves in fillin’ yer up with lunches an’ dinners 
an’ teas — ter say nothin’ o’ botUes of wine an’ 
mixed drinks at all hours?” 

“ They were very hospitable,” admitted Jack, 
who had been astonished at the gorgeousness and 
profusion of the entertainments offered in his 
honor. 

“Hospitable!” echoed the Judge with a sar- 
donic laugh. “ Do yer think they did it fer ye. 
Jack ? If yer do yer greener than ole lady Fitch’s 
parrot.” 

“Why not,” asked the young man. “Whom 
else did they do it for ? ” 

“ For the Earl of Tantallon,” cried the Judge. 
“ If yer’d bin J udas Iscariot with a handle to yer 
name they would hev done the same. Our bong- 
13 


194 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

tongs would crawl naked through a prickly pear 
fence ter git at a lord, an’ as long as the cuss is in 
sight they’d black his boots if he’d only let ’em. 
Yer’ve not cut yer wisdom teeth yet, Jack.” 

“I don’t believe it,” cried Tantallon hotly. 
“There are snobs on Nob Hill and snobs in the 
peerage — lots of them ; but let me tell you that 
I’ve met as nice people in San Francisco as I wish 
to meet anywhere, and on such a point I’m a bet- 
ter judge than you.” 

“ Wal,” replied Ketchum, “ yer do well ter stand 
up fer yer friends. But what I’m gittin’ at is 
this. Them boys of mine air innercent as Mary’s 
little lamb, an’ as ignorant. If I leave them here 
in America with titles tacked on to their names, 
every son-of-a-gun that comes along will till ’em 
plum up with taffy, an’ they’ll be everlastingly 
spoiled. They’ll grow up dod-gasted dudes an* 
deadheads, an’ — dern it ! — if they do I’ll play the. 
Roman father an’ kill ’em myself.” 

Tantallon was amused at the old man’s vehe- 
mence, but he recognized, and did justice to the 
stratum of truth that underlay his words. 

“Have it your own way. Judge. It is your^ 
family and not mine. I have no doubt that you 
are right.” 

“The girl’ll hev ter be told,” pursued the 
Judge. “ But I don’t propose ter tell her, or any 
one else, a denied thing until we git safe an’ 
sound to England. I’m not a goin’ ter make a 


PLAXS. 


195 


dime museum out of myself ter please the Amer- 
ican nation. An’ I’m not goin’ ter deprive yer of 
yer title an’ crown till the lawyers hev had their 
say-so. Yer kin tell Mr. Britton but I’ll ask you 
Jack, as a favor not to shoot off yer mouth to any- 
one else.” 

“ All right,” said Jack cheerfully, “ I’ll play the 
part of the peer in possession till we get home. 
But I suggest that either you or I prepare Saman- 
tha a little for the coming change in her condition. 
She is a capital girl as you say, and like all 
Americans adaptable, but she needs a hint or 
two.” 

“ How much would yer tell her. Jack ? ” 

“ I could say simply that there was every 
reason to believe that you had come into a fortune 
and that you were going to England with me to 
obtain possession of it. That the boys would re- 
main behind for the present but that she would 
accompany us, and that . . . well I don’t exactly 
know how I should word it, but I’d let her see, 
without hurting her feelings, that a little toning 
down would be an improvement.” 

“ If yer’ll do that. Jack, I’ll be obligated to yer. 
She is out thar by the barn now, feeding her 
chickens. Yer might say a word to once, an’ then 
durin’ yer visit here she’ll be ready ter study up 
an’ improve herself.” 

Tantallon willingly walked off in the direction 
of his young cousin. The side issue had begun to 


196 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

amuse him ; and his buoyant spirits rose superior 
to his sense of loss. The glow, inseparable from 
a noble action, permeated his moral and physical 
being, and from the pinnacle of his righteous self- 
satisfaction he looked down genially at the comedy 
that was being played at his feet. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A PRETTY COUSIN. 

Samantha blushed prettily as Jack Tantallon 
approached her, a sign of innocent femininity that 
our hero fully appreciated. Unlike most jin de 
nlcle young men he took a hearty interest in bud- 
ding maidens, provided of course that they were 
modest and fairly intelligent ; and it goes without 
saying that the innocent maids on their side took 
an equally hearty interest in Jack, who was one 
of those fortunate individuals who inspire instant 
and cordial liking in the hearts of all sorts and 
conditions of women as well as men. Lord Bid- 
dulph, who knew him better than any one else, 
accounted for this after a fashion of his own. 

“ Jack,” he would say in his abrupt and jerky 
tones, “ has a marvellous knack of making friends. 
Men like him because he is unaffected and cheery : 
the women because he takes them at their own 
valuation and believes nearly all they tell him.” 

He sauntered leisurely across the piece of turf 
that divided him from Samantha, and noted with 
approval, not only the blush aforesaid, but also 
the gracious curves of her slender figure as she 
stood bareheaded, her delicate features clearly de- 
fined against the purple haze of the distant pines. 

197 


198 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCEUM. 

“Are you fond of animals?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied, demurely, “I am fond of all 
animals, even the animal man.” 

Taiitallon regarded her with some surprise. 

“ Do you see that rooster over there ? ” She 
pointed to a large Brahma cook, who like a wise 
fowl was making the most of his opportunities. 

“Yes,” said Jack. “He looks out for number 
one, doesn’t he ? ” 

“I call him Lucullus,” she said, “because he is 
so particular and so greedy. He will eat out of 
my hand and knows his name.” 

She extended a small palm filled with barley 
seed, and then called the cock by his name. He 
strutted pompously towards her, and began peck- 
ing away vigorously. 

“ That is the way to appeal to the male sex,” 
she said softly. 

Jack pulled his tawny mustache and stared at 
her in astonishment. 

“I say,” he began, with the laborious utterance 
of the Briton, “ who taught you about Lucullus, 
and where did you pick up your ideas about the 
male sex ? ” 

“ I have had lots of experience with men,” she 
answered frankly, “and I know all about Lu- 
cullus and those other stand-bys of ancient Greece 
and Rome. They were mostly frauds, I guess. 
Bless you, I read Plutarch’s Lives when I was 
eight years old ! ” 


A PRETTY COUSIN. 


199 


“ What else do you know ? ” 

“ Well I know how to put a diamond hitch on 
a mule — and there are few women in California 
who can do that.” 

“ What is a diamond hitch?” asked Jack. 

“ It is the only hitch that holds a pack-saddle 
good and firm on the back of a mule. I can’t ex- 
plain it to you, but I’ll show you how to do it for 
yourself.” 

Tantallon encouraged her to talk, and put a 
number of questions that she answered modestly 
and brightly. 

“ Does this life content you ? ” he asked, at 
length. 

“No,” she said decidedly. “ It’s terribly lone- 
some here at times, and there is no get-up to the 
place.” 

“ You would enjoy a complete change? Plenty 
of pretty frocks for instance, and lots of pocket- 
money and gaiety? ” 

She nodded her small head briskly. 

“ Oh,” she cried, “ there are so many things, 
there must be so many pleasant things to be done 
by those who have money.” 

She clasped her brown slender hands and looked 
wistfully at the distant pines. 

“ What would you do?” 

“ I should buy everything that was pretty and 
cunning. Pretty dresses for instance, and ah ! 
. . . . what a lovely house I should live in ! What 


200 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

beautiful books and flowers I should have ! What 
comfortable chairs and lovely pictures! Poor 
folks have so little fun. They work so hard that 
after a time they don’t know how to play — poor 
things ! Their sense of enjoyment is quite gone. 
That is very sad isn’t it ? ” 

‘‘ Very sad indeed,” replied Jack. 

“I should try and make their lives easier,' con- 
tinued the girl. “ I couldn’t be happy myself if I 
saw a lot of miserable toil-hardened faces around 
me — could I ? ” 

“ I suppose not,” said Jack. 

“ Of course not. No one could. That is to say 
no nice kind person. You see I know what it is 
to be poor. I know the hopelessness of it— the 
misery. I really think that if I had the money I 
might do something.” 

“Lord bless you,” said Jack, “that sort of 
thing is like pouring water down a rat-hole. 
There is so much wretchedness in the world that 
it is . . 

“ Oh — I know what you are going to say. 
Don’t say it. Every little helps.” 

“ You would like to be really rich, Samantha?” 

“You can bet your sweet life on that,” she an- 
swered quickly. 

“ Of course you might not be any happier than 
you are now,” proceeded Jack. 

“ That’s so,” replied the girl dreamily. “ I’d bet- 
ter make the most of the present and let the future 


A PRETTY COUSIN. 


201 


take care of itself. That’s what Popper says, and 
he is a philosopher and knows everything.” 

Her evident pride in the Judge’s omniscience 
tickled Jack immensely. 

I’ll tell you your fortune,” said he. “ Give 
me your left hand.” Samantha turned half aside. 

“Surely you are not shy,” exclaimed Tantal- 
lon. 

“Shy” — she laughed — “not much; but my 
hand is ... . well dirty.” 

Nevertheless she stretched it out, and Jack 
gazed at it solemnly and intently. 

“ You have a capital line of heart, and an ex- 
cellent line of head. Your line of destiny is sim- 
ply splendid. I see rank and wealth and all the 
pleasant things of life awaiting you in the near 
future.” 

Her expressive eyes brightened. 

“ Go on,” she cried eagerly, “ this knocks spots 
out of a dime novel. Ah ! ... if it would only 
come true ! ” 

“ Can you keep a secret, Samantha ? ” 

“Yes,” she replied promptly, “I can. I can 
use my tongue and not abuse it. Popper taught 
me that. He says that a woman who shoots her 
mouth off is worse than a blind idiot with a 
loaded gun.” 

“ You father is as wise as Solomon, Samantha ; 
but I want you to listen very attentively to what 
I am going to tell you, and moreover keep your 


202 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

own counsel and, as you say, don’t shoot your 
mouth off to anyone, not even your own brothers. 
Do you promise ? ” 

“ I promise,” she said gravely. 

“ By a curious chance your father has come into 
a large fortune.” 

“ A large fortune ? ” gasped the girl. 

“Yes,” repeated Jack, “a large fortune.” 

“ Thank God ! ” she said very earnestly. “Thank 
God ! ” 

“ It is a pleasant change,” proceeded Jack ; 
“ but there are drawbacks.” 

“ I understand — new shoes look very nice but 
they are not so comfortable as old ones.” 

“Exactly — you have stated the case a great 
deal better than I could. Now I was once very 
poor. In fact I lived in a state of chronic debt 
and hard-uppishness ; but I give you my word I 
was the jolliest and most independent beggar in 
the world. Then I became suddenly rich and be- 
fore I knew where I was I found myself bound 
hand and foot, and gagged into the bargain.” 

“ What did you do ? ” 

“ I ran away. That is why I am here. I sup- 
pose there is a fate in these things. I ran away 
from my responsibilities and now,” he added with 
a rueful laugh, “ my responsibilities have run 
away from me. How do you like me, Saman- 
tha ? ” 

She looked into his laughing eyes, and blushed 


A PRETTY COUSIN. 


203 


for the second time. Her interest in this stal- 
wart stranger grew apace and frightened her. 

“ I like you very well,” she said simply. 

“ And I like you,” said Jack,” and the more I 
see you the more I like you, which is as it should 
be, for we are cousins.” 

“Cousins,” she ejaculated. 

“ Yes, cousins.” 

Then he took her by the hand and kissed her 
warmly and energetically. In the distance the 
Judge saw him and was illuminated forthwith by 
a stupendous thought. 

“ Jee . . . roosalem,” he muttered, a broad smile 
playing round the corners of his shrewd lips. 
“ Jee ..... roosalem.” Then he turned his 
back deliberately upon the young people and 
walked off. 

“ It ull come squar,” he said to himself with a 
chuckle, “ and dern it all what a chucklehead I 
was not ter hev thought of sech a simple combine 
before. They’re jest made fer each other, and 
they’ll come together in doo time an’ season.” 

Samantha, however, rather resented Jack’s dis- 
play of cousinly affection. She disengaged her- 
self from his embrace, and with heaving bosom 
stood wrathfully eyeing him from head to foot. 

“ It seems to me,” she said sharply, “ that even 
for a cousin you’re kind o’ fresh. Kissing in 
America goes by favor.” 

“And blood in England,” retorted Jack, “is 


204 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

thicker than water, and a deal more inflammable. 
Don’t get cross, Samantha. The man who could 
resist kissing such a pretty cousin as you are 
doesn’t deserve to live.” 

He seemed so comically penitent that she 
smiled at him, a couple of delightful dimples in- 
denting her cheeks. 

“ I’ll forgive you if you’ll promise never to do 
it again .... without leave,” she added mis- 
chievously. “ And now you can start right in 
and tell me everything from beginning to end.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


JACK GOES HOME. 

In the the course of the next few days Jack 
Tantallon inspired unwittingly a very positive 
passion in the breast of pretty Samantha. He 
not only aroused for the first time the interest of 
the girl, but he appealed to her imagination, 
which hitherto had been nourished chiefly upon 
itself. His hearty sympathy and kindly good- 
breeding were a revelation to this young woman. 
Coming in contact with many men, she had early 
formed the habit of gauging, by comparison, the 
characters of her acquaintances; and Jack, con- 
trasted with the rough miners of Hard Scratch, 
towered above them mentally and morally, a very 
Gulliver among the Lilliputians! The Judge un- 
wisely fanned the flame of his daughter’s growing 
attachment, and Jack, in serene unconsciousness 
of what was passing under his big hook-nose, 
talked, rode and chaffed with the love -sick girl in 
all innocence and good-fellowship. 

After a couple of weeks of this one-sided love- 
making, the doctor told Jack one fine morning 
that he was a well man. 

“ You can leave the canon to-morrow, if you 

205 


206 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

want to,” he added with a glance in the direction 
of Samantha. 

Tantallon, blinded to the significance of his 
words, nodded. 

“ To tell yon the truth,” he said, frankly, “ I 
am heartily sick of these everlasting pines. I 
shall get out of this as soon as possible.” 

The Judge, on his part, was equally anxious “to 
pull up stakes ” as he expressed it. He had sold 
his claim and resigned his official position. With 
the proceeds of the former snugly stowed away 
in his inside pocket he declared himself “ foot- 
loose ” and ready to depart. 

“ These clothes,” he said, glancing distrustfully 
at his time-worn apparel, “air good enough fer 
Hard Scratch, but I reckon they’re not high-toned 
enough fer an English lord — air they Jack?” 

“Well,” replied Tantallon, gravely, “a lord, 
Judge, can dress as badly as he pleases. But if I 
were you I should see a barber and a tailor at the 
first opportunity. Rank has its responsibilities.” 

“Jest so,” assented the ex-notary. “Rank has 
its responsibilities. Queen Victory wouldn’t like 
ter see me cavortin’ around in these old duds. I 
hate like thunder ter say good-bye ter this yere 
coat. It’s an old friend ; but it wouldn't go well 
with a crown, would it ? ” 

Jack scanned his still upright figure with a 
critical eye. 

“Do you know. Judge,” he said at length, 


JACK GOES HOME. 


207 


“you will make a devilish good looking peer 
when you are properly turned out by Poole, and 
have sacrificed that old goatee of yours.” 

“ Must that go?” said the Judge, sorrowfully. 

“ It must,” said Jack, firmly. “ For the future 
you will have no beard to stroke. But you will 
have a stovepipe hat, so that you’ll not miss it 
much.” 

“ Yer not a goin’ ter turn me into a dude at my 
time o’ life? ” 

“ I am going to do my duty by you. Judge, re- 
gardless of cost,” answered Jack solemnly. “ You 
mentioned her Majesty just now. It may surprise 
you to hear that she is absurdly particular on the 
subject of clean hands and faces. You read the 
advertisements, I suppose?” 

“ Why cert’nly, they’re the most interestin’ 
readin’ nowadays. Of course I read them.” 

“ You must have noticed the enormous quantity 
of soap that is used in the royal households?” 

“ I hev,” replied the Hon. Cephas. “ It struck 
me as bein’ out o’ all reason.” 

“ No,” said Jack. “ As a bulwark of the throne. 
Judge, it will be your painful duty to take a bath 
every blessed day of your life.” 

“ Great Scott ! ” ejaculated the old man, “ I’ll 
catch my death-of-cold, sure” 

“ Rank has its responsibilities,” repeated Tan- 
tallon for the second time, “ and its penalties. 
Judge.” 


208 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ That’s SO,” sighed the Judge sadly. “ If I go 
to Rome I must do as the Romans do.” 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ id 

Upon their arrival at San Francisco the Judge 
and his three children put up at the Russ House, 
a hostelry much frequented by gentlemen of his 
kidney, but not on the same plane as the Palace 
or the California. Jack, of course, went straight 
to Britton’s Folly, and unbosomed himself to his 
host. Britton at first deprecated the position 
that Jack had taken, but on mature consideration 
admitted the overwhelming nature of the proof 
submitted, and unwillingly endorsed his friend's 
action. 

“I must carve my own fortunes,” said Tan- 
tallon cheerfully as he smoked one of Britton’s 
perfectos in the library. 

“ I can help you materially,” said Britton. 

“ I know you can, old chap, and I’m not too 
proud to accept your help. I’ll see the Judge in- 
stalled at Tantallon and then return here.” 

Britton’s colorless face lightened with pleasure. 

“ I am at your service now, or at any other 
time,” he said warmly. This is a capital country 
for men with a little backing. I can steer 5^ou to 
fortune, if you are willing to be steered, Jack.” 

“Thank you, Henry. I will follow your lead in 
all matters of finance blindly : you can rest as- 
sured of that.” 


JACK GOES HOME. 


209 


“ By-the-bye — this discovery of your’s affects 
Miss Tantallon’s fortune doesn’t it ? ” 

“ By Jove,” cried Jack blankly, “ what a driv- 
elling idiot I am. I had absolutely never thought 
of that. Of course it does.” 

“ When is she to be married ? ” 

“ After Easter.” 

“She ought to be told the truth without de- 
lay.” 

“ What do you suggest, Henry? ” 

“ You should start for England at once. A let- 
ter would be unsatisfactory, and a telegram still 
more so. The Judge can follow at his leisure 
when he has found a tutor for his boys. Miss 
Tantallon has the first and strongest claim upon 
you. This loss of fortune may make a material 
difference to her prospects.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ My dear fellow, I am a pessimist, and my 
opinion of human nature is not an exalted one. 
From what I know of your family affairs. Miss 
Tantallon stands an excellent chance of being 
jilted.” 

“If that coxcomb jilts her I’ll kill him,” said 
Jack savagely. 

Britton laughed. 

“ What a blood-thirsty beggar you are. Why, 
man, you ought to be infinitely obliged to him. 
He clears the way for a better fellow .... your- 
self.” 


14 


210 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ For me ? ” said Jack scornfully — “ a ruined 
man — that’s yqvj likely.” 

Britton, unwilling to encourage hopes that might 
be blighted, adroitly changed the subject. 

“ What is his lordship doing ? ” he asked. 

“The Judge?” said Jack. “ Oh, he’s here at 
the Russ House. It’s as good as a play taking 
him about and talking to him about his exalted 
rank. In some respects, with all his shrewdness, 
he is as innocent as the babe unborn. I shall 
take him to a tailor this afternoon and choose 
everything myself. The girl has good taste and I 
have no doubt that she will turn herself out as a 
lady. By the way, Britton, she is dying to make 
your acquaintance. You are a sort of veiled 
prophet of Khorassan to her.” 

“ Unfortunately,” replied Britton, “ she won’t 
have the opportunity. I go north this very after- 
noon on most urgent business. However I ex- 
pect to cross next spring, and, in the meanwhile, 
if I can do anything for you here let me know.” 

“ Thank you,” said Jack absently. 

He was thinking of Marie, and how he should 
break the news to her. 

Three weeks later he found himself in Edin- 
burgh closeted with Mr. McFee. 


BOOK III. 


CHAPTER I. 

ALICK CARRICK-FERGUS TEMPORIZES. 

“ Do you know Jack Tantallon ? ” asked one 
gilded youth of another, as they stood together 
in the bay-window of a St. James’s street club. 

“ Know him. Why my dear chap, many is the 
time that he has thrashed me soundly. I was his 
fag at Eton. Good old Jack, there isn’t a better 
fellow in the Avorld than he is. I haven’t seen 
him for ages — let me see — not since the Earl’s 
death. I fancy he went abroad.” 

“ There is a story going the round of the clubs 
that an American has put in a claim to the titles 
and estates, and tliey say that Tantallon unearthed 
the Johnny himself ; ran him to ground in a min- 
ing camp. Sounds improbable, doesn’t it?” 

“ Phew ...” said his friend. “ What beastly 
hard luck.” 

The first speaker nodded. 

“ Look here, there is Alick Carrick-Fergus sit- 
ting by the fire. Let us go and ask him all about 

211 


212 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3I. 


it. He is Jack’s cousin, and, of course, in the 
know.” 

‘‘What is this story about Jack Tantallon ? ” 
they asked. “ Is it true ? ” 

“ True,” replied Alick, “ yes — damn it — it is 
true. Why the devil couldn’t the idiot stay in 
England, and mind his own business.” 

Then he told the two men what the reader al- 
ready knows. 

But he may not prove his case to the satisfac- 
tion of the lawyers.” 

“ He has proved it. He can walk into Tantal- 
lon whenever he chooses. He is openly acknowl- 
edged.” 

“ Have you seen him, Carrick-Fergus? ” 

“ No — I have seen Jack. My mother and I 
only came from Scotland yesterday.” 

“ Is Miss Tantallon with you ? ” 

“ She is at Tantallon.” 

“ This infernal business affects her . . eh ! ” 

“ Yes,” said Alick, shortly. 

“ What is Jack doing ? ” 

“What do you suppose? He has installed 
himself bear-leader to this wild man of the West. 
However, there is some method in his madness as 
there is a devilish pretty girl in the case, with 
piles of shekels, of course.” 

“ Jack is the last fellow in the world to care 
about that,” remarked his quondam fag. 

“ The more fool he,” sneered Alick. 


ALICK CABRICK-FEBGUS TEMPO BIZE8. 


213 


“ He is not very amiable,” said one of the 
mashers, as he and his friend meandered away in 
the direction of the billiard-room. “ I expect 
his future wife’s dot is pretty well cut down. 
Let’s have a split.” 

In the meantime Carrick-Fergus sat by the 
fire cursing his destiny. In his pocket was a let- 
ter he had just received from Marie, which we 
will take the liberty of reading. 

“ Dearest Alick : — 

“ I saw Mr. McFee after you left. He says that 
grandpapa’s will is so much waste paper. His 
wife brought him no fortune, and what he had of 
his own, will probably revert to Jack Tantallon. 
The lawyers have not decided the point yet, but, 
at any rate, there is nothing coming to me except 
my mother’s fortune. I have no choice but to 
release you from our engagement. You are a 
poor man, and cannot afford the luxury of a poor 
wife .... etc., etc. ...” 

It was not a long letter, but every sentence was 
pregnant with the pain and distress with which it 
had been penned. Alick’s brow grew very dark 
as he read on to the end. He did not love Marie, 
and the prospect of spending the rest of his days 
in her company presented no attractions for him. 
Since his engagement he had been kind to her and 
even affectionate after his fashion, for he was fully 


214 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

alive to the fact that if he had no love for his 
future wife, it was expedient that she, at any rate, 
should have love and consideration for him. He 
had assured himself complacently that he would 
make her a good husband, and, at all times, study 
her comfort and happiness : by this laudable means 
he too would attain comfort — which was all he 
valued — and the control of his wife’s check-book. 
The unlooked-for advent of the ex-Notary Public 
of Hard Scratch, and the subsequent acknowl- 
edgment of his claims, completely shattered these 
pretty air castles, and the architect ruefully real- 
ized that rebuilding was out of the question. 
Like most selfish men he could think rapidly and 
to the point, where his own interests were involved. 
He intended to withdraw from his approaching 
marriage; but he wished to retreat gracefully and 
honorably in the eyes of his world. He stood 
on delicate ground, and he was aware that his 
subsequent operations in the matrimonial market 
depended very much on the manner in which he 
extricated himself from his present difficulties. 

“ I must temporize,” he muttered. 

Then he put pen to paper and wrote as follows : 

“My Darling Marie: — 

“ Your letter has made me most unhappy. I 
sympathize with you heartily in the loss that has 
befallen you ; but the outlook is not altogether 
desperate. Under the circumstances the present 


ALICE CARRICE FERGUS TEMPORIZES. 


215 


Earl will probably carry out the conditions of 
your grandfather’s will. If not, we must do the 
best we can on the pittance that is left. It will 
be terrible to see you in badly cut gowns and 
shabby gloves, but I cannot hear of breaking the 
engagement. I love you for yourself and won’t 
give you up ” 

He concluded with several ardent phrases, and 
then put the letter in his pocket unsealed. He 
intended to show this precious epitome of hum- 
bug to his mother. 

“ The rnater^'^ he sneered, “ will have to show 
her hand. At this crisis of her darling’s fortunes 
only one thing is possible between us — plain 
speaking.” 

When he arrived at his mother’s house a sur- 
prise awaited him. The old family servant who 
opened the door nodded mysteriously. 

“ ’Is lordship is hup-stairs.” 

“ Who the devil is his lordship?” 

“The new Earl, Mr. Alick.” 

“ Ah ! ! ! ! Anybody with him, Davis ? ” 

“ Mr. Jack, and the Lady Samantha Tantallon.” 

Carrick-Fergus was not in the habit of gossip- 
ing with his mother’s servants, but Davis was dis- 
creet and discriminating. He was curious to hear 
w^hat opinion the man had formed. 

“ What is she like, Davis ? ” 

“ ’Er ladyship,” said the faithful Davis, mouth- 


216 TEE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

ing the title after the fashion of London servants, 
“ ’er ladyship is beautiful, and quite the lady.” 

“ Beautiful is she — What do you mean by beau- 
tiful, Davis ? Describe her if you can.” 

“ She is not tall, Mr. Alick, but a fine figger, 
with the smallest hands and feet I ever see. Her 
hair is golden and her eyes as soft as velvet, and 
yet they look as if they could snap, too.” 

That will do,” interposed Alick. “ You have 
excited my curiosit}^, Davis, I sliall go and judge 
for myself.” 

A few seconds later he was making himself as 
agreeable and cordial as the occasion warranted. 
To make friends of the Mammon of Unrighteous- 
ness was one of the cardinal points of this young 
man’s creed ; and much as he hated and despised 
these unwelcome relations he bade them welcome 
with suave courtesy and easy dignity. 

“ I shall impetrate a loan,” he thought, as he 
marked the open-hearted countenance of the Earl. 
“ If I play my cards well this may turn out a 
devilish good thing for me. The old cad looks as 
if he would come down handsomely.” 

He mentally stigmatized the Earl as an old cad, 
but as a matter of fact his appearance had aston- 
ished him not a little. Jack Tantallon, ably sec- 
onded by a Conduit street tailor, had effected a 
miracle in his kinsman’s outward and visible man. 
The lionest fellow blossomed forth in a most ac- 
curate suit of grey cashmere, and in the centre of 


ALICK CARBICK-FERQUS TEMPORIZES. 217 

his voluminous black satin cravat gleamed a pearl 
of price that had belonged to, and had been fre- 
quently worn by the late Earl. His resemblance 
to the latter was most extraordinary, but it must 
be confessed that when he spoke the charm of his 
aristocratic presence was suddenly and rudely dis- 
pelled. 

He shook Alick’s hand with such hearty good 
will that that carefully manicured member abso- 
lutely cracked. 

“ Glad ter make yer acquaintance,” he said in 
his full flavored accent. “ I’ve bin havin’ quite a 
how-dy with the ole lady an’ she told me all about 
ye. I’ll say right here that you an’ yer girl kin 
count me in as a friend.” 

This intelligence was so gratifying that Alick 
forgot his injured fingers and smiled a suitable ac- 
knowledgment. 

“ What do you think of England, my lord ? ” 
he asked. 

“Wall Mister, it’s small and damp, but well 
trimmed an’ neat. It looks as if the Almighty 
hed took a pair o’ shears and tidied everything up 
ter suit himself. Fer me there’s too much art, 
except in the matter o’ drinks.” 

“ Drinks ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Carrick-Fergus. 

“ Yes, ma’am, drinks. The mixin’ o’ drinks in 
the States is an art, a fine art, but it is neglected 
here.” 

“We have American bars,” said Alick. 


218 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

The Earl sniffed. 

“ That’s what they call them,” he remarked, 
dryly. “ This,” he continued, changing the sub- 
ject, “ is yer cousin Samanthy, as good an’ pretty 
a young lady as ever lived, an’ a credit to her 
schoolin’.” 

I am sure of that,” said Alick, amazed at the 
girl’s beauty and self-possession. 

She bowed to him gracefully, but said nothing. 
This new world into which she had been suddenly 
plunged interested and attracted her, but, being 
a wise virgin, she kept her eyes open and her 
lovely lips resolutely closed. 

“ I’ll catch on quick enough,” she remarked to 
her father soon after their arrival, “and when I 
do catch on I’ll have as a good a time as any of 
them. They’re mighty particular, these British- 
ers, but, popper, they’re mighty nice, too, and 
clean. They all look as if they bathed every day 
and used lots of soap.” 

“I guess so,” replied her father. “With the 
most of them cleanliness comes before Godliness, 
I reckon.” 

Garrick Fergus noticed that she followed Jack 
with her eyes and seemed unduly interested in his 
rather commonplace remarks. He drew his own 
conclusions and when he had an opportunity of 
speaking to her alone asked her. 

“ How do you like my cousin, I mean our cou- 
sin . . . Jack.” 


ALICK CARRICK-FEliGUS TEMPORIZES, 219 

A slight blush dyed her cheeks. 

“ I like him very much,” she replied, in a low 
tone. 

“Jack has not let the grass grow under his 
feet,” mused Alick. Then he said aloud. 

“ All girls like Jack. He has a wonderful way 
with him, don’t you know. He doesn’t mean any 
harm of course but unconsciously he makes love 
to every woman he meets.” 

Having put this spoke into his cousin’s wheel, 
he reverted to ordinary topics and made himself 
thoroughly amusing and agreeable. When he so 
chose he could invest the tritest subjects with a 
glamor of sympathetic interest that appealed 
strongly to an inexperienced girl like Samantha. 
He played with her plastic intelligence at will, 
and she listened, fascinated, to the caressing mod- 
ulations of his really charming voice. As soon as 
she found herself alone with her father she spoke 
enthusiastically of his kindness and cleverness. 

“ Yes, he’s a slick talker,” assented the “Jedge,” 
“but you mark me, child, that young man is a 
fraud. I sized him up when he was jabbering 
away to you. He’s shifty an’ unstable, an’ don’t 
you forgit it.” 

His daughter resented this unkind criticism. 

“ You shouldn’t judge so hastily,” she cried. 

“ Look ye here,” he said emphatically, shaking 
his horny index finger, “ fer ten years yer father 
was Justice o’ the Peace o’ Hard Scratch an’ thar, 


220 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3f. 

in the pnrsoot of his official dooties, he come in 
contract with half the devilish scum of this earth. 
He got to know a rascal a league away, an’ let me 
tell yer, he seldom got souped. Yes,” he repeated, 
rubbing his hands, “it was a chilly day when 
Jedge Ketchura found himself in the puree.” 

“ I don’t care,” pouted Samantha ; “ he was 
very nice to me this afternoon and I like him.” 

“Naterally. He’s as pretty as a painted wagon, 
an’ yet young an’ as yet three parts fool, but I’ll 
give yer a pointer : — when yer meet a stranger look 
at his mouth an’ hands. They’ll give him away 
every time.” 

“ I am dying to see the girl he’s going to 
marry.” 

“Wal — yer’ll hev an opportoonity right soon. 
We’ll make a bee-line fer the Castle as soon as 
yer fal-lals come home. There’s nothin’ keepin’ 
us in the cinder box except yer dresses an’ bonnets 
an’ sech truck.” 

“Jack is coming with us? ” 

“ Why cert’ny. The boy is one of the fam’l}’- 
— at least he soon will be,” he added, significantly. 

Samantha let her lids fall over her expressive 
eyes. 

The father watched her closely. 

“ There’s no use of beatin’ about the bush. It’s 
plain ter be seen that yer think the world o’ Jack, 
an’ that he responds accordin’. Why don’t the 
critter speak out an’ hev done with it.” 


ALICE CA BRICK- FERGUS TEMPORIZES. 


221 


“I don’t know,” faltered the girl. 

“ Wal,” said the old man, “I did my courtin’ a 
derned sight easier that you two.” 

To his surprise Samantha burst into tears. 
Alick’s words of the afternoon recurred to her. 

“ Perhaps he does not care for me at all,” she 
sobbed. “ I heard to-day that he is equally pleas- 
ant to every woman he meets ; but I love him, 
miserable fool that I am ; I love him,” 

Her father took her in his great arms and kissed 
her tenderly. 

Don’t take on, my pretty,” he whispered ; 
“ Jack will pan out pure gold if yer give him a 
show. These Britishers air so derned slow about 
everything, except their railroadin’, that it makes 
me tired, an’ besides Jack is proud. He may be 
hangin’ fire on that account. Anyways I’ll fix 
him with a word or two.” 

The girl raised her hand. 

“ Promise me,” she exclaimed, vehemently, “that 
you will do nothing of the kind. It’s my busi- 
ness, and I’ll take my chance. I wont be thrown 
at any man’s head.” 

“I admire yer sperrit,” said the Earl after a 
pause, “an’ I’ll keep my mouth shet. But onless 
he treats you squar’, ther’ll be trouble, as sure as 
my name is Ketchum, I mean Tantallon.” 


CHAPTER II. 


MOTHER AND SON. 

“Well,” said Alick, to his mother, as soon as 
he found himself alone with her, what is the next 
move in the game ? ” 

The poor lady gazed with lack-lustre eyes at 
her Benjamin. Anxiety, on his behalf, had sharp- 
ened her aquiline nose, which a chronic dyspepsia 
had already encarmined. She looked, now that 
the society mask was off — fagged and out of heart. 

Garrick- Fergus pulled the two letters, Marie’s 
and his own, from his pocket and handed them in 
silence to her. She read them botli carefully and 
sighed. 

“ Your letter does you credit, Alick.” 

“Unfortunately,” he replied lightly, “I don’t 
mean all that T say.” 

“Then, it is as I expected, you don’t really 
love her.” 

“No, — I like her, but I never loved her. You 
asked me to marry her, and, as a good son, 1 did 
as I was told.” 

“ You have some plan ? ” 

“ Yes — I have a plan.” 

There was an embarrassed pause. 

222 


MOTHER AND SON 


223 


“What is it? ” she asked at length. 

“I don’t propose to throw myself away on a 
practically penniless girl,” he answered with brutal 
frankness, “ particularly as I think that I can do 
better.” 

“ You mean. . . .” 

“Samantha. Yes, 1 do.” 

“You would marry the daughter of such an 
Orson ! ” 

“ A rough diamond. I’ll admit ; but he’d come 
down handsomely in the matter of settlements.” 

“ It will be disgraceful, your jilting poor Marie: 
the child loves you to distraction.” 

“ I am not in the habit,” he replied coldly, “ of 
doing disgraceful things. It will be an easy job 
to make Marie jilt me.” 

He laughed cynically, and stroked his silky 
mustache. 

“Don’t,” cried his motlier. “Don’t laugh, 
Alick, I cannot bear it.” 

“We must face the music,” he said sullenly. 
“What is the use of pretending and beating about 
the bush. For Heaven’s sake, mater, be honest. 
You and I cannot afford to consider Marie and her 
feelings, and the time is past for gush and senti- 
ment. I am in a most delicate position, and I 
count upon you to assist me out of it.” 

“Go on,” she murmured. 

“ You and I return to Tantallon with the wild 
West show. If Buffalo Bill carries out the con- 


224 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


ditions of my uncle’s will in regard to Marie — 
well and good : if not I shall be under the painful 
necessit}^ of making furious love to the little 
Yankee under Marie’s very nose. I shall soon 
get my walking papers.” 

This flippant heartless tone disgusted his listener, 
and for the first time in her life, she regarded her 
son distastefully, almost with aversion. 

“All this you can do,” she said coldly, “with- 
out my assistance.” 

“Certainly,” he replied easily, “but I count 
upon you as a valuable ally. You can paint me 
to Samantha in colors, as glowing as your maternal 
palette affords. I have made a good impression 
there already. To tell you the truth I’m getting 
tired of Marie : she is so confoundedly straight- 
laced and puritanical. Her ideas and mine clash. 
It would really be a kindness to the girl not to 
marry her.” 

“ It would indeed,” said his mother, bitterly. 

“ Now this little Samantha is much more to my 
taste. She is adaptable, like all Ame^'ican girls, 
and pretty enough to turn the heads of half the 
men in town. Marie is too high-flown for the nine- 
teenth century.” 

“ She is one woman in a thousand,” cried Mrs. 
Carrick-Fergus. 

Possibly . . . but not the wife for me.” 

“ I agree with you ; she is not the wife for such 
a man as you.” 


MOTHER AND SON. 


225 


“Well then — what is the use in getting nasty. 
I don’t lay claim to any exalted moral standard. 
I am no better and no worse than other men.” 

“ I thought that my son had some spark of no- 
bility.” 

“ My dear mother I am the natural product of 
my education and environment. I am not a bad 
son — I am easy to live with — I thoroughly under- 
stand the art of giving and taking.” 

“ Especially the latter.” 

“ Certainly. In your sense of the word I take 
what I can : the crumbs that fall from rich men’s 
tables. That is my misfortune not my fault. It 
is a thousand times more blessed to give than re- 
ceive, but — ^que voulez vous ' — I am only in a posi- 
tion to receive. You would insist on sending me 
to Eton, and after that to Christ Church. You 
pitch-forked me into society with a few hundreds 
a year, and a well developed capacity for spending 
the same number of thousands. Naturally I as- 
sociated with the best people until the so-called 
luxuries of life became absolute necessities. If I 
abhor cheap claret, and shudder at a badly cut 
coat, it is your fault and not mine. I don’t re- 
proach you, but I give the facts for what they are 
worth. What in the name of common sense do 
you expect from such a bringing-up ? ’’ 

“ After all my sacrifices I might expect a little 
gratitude. You are a thankless son.” 

“ I am nothing of the kind. I appreciate your 

15 


226 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

sacrifices — and am grateful for them. In proof of 
this I am ready to marry the girl you picked out 
for me provided her dot is forthcoming. Other- 
wise, according to your own teaching, it would be 
the maddest folly.” 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus rose from her chair. 

“ Enough,” she said quietly. “ You can act as 
you think best, but remember I have made my 
protest. You have said some bitter things, things 
which I shall never forget ; but the cruel part of 
it is that they are true. It would have been bet- 
ter for you, and better for me, if I had closed my 
heart and my purse against your selfish pleadings, 
but you are the last person to fling my mistake in 
my teeth. I indulged your extravagance, and 
pampered your overweening vanity. I am well 
repaid.” 

She swept from the room and left her smooth- 
tongued son . . . for the first time in his life . . . 
speechless. 

>ic 5|e 

He did not recover his normal self-possession 
until after dinner. His mother’s biting words 
had come upon him suddenly, and with a certain 
shock. Hardened though he was he loved her 
after a fashion and regretted his out-spoken ness. 

“ That is the worst of a woman,” he muttered, 
“ she begins by deceiving others and ends by de- 
ceiving herself. With a man it is different : it 


MOrHKR A^D SON. 


227 


may be policy for liim to keep the mask on before 
the world, but in his own heart he assigns the 
proper value to the motives that govern his con- 
duct. If he blinds others he keeps his own eyes 
open. The mater is a shrewd woman, but in this 
case her Sunday sentiments have overpowered her 
week-day common sense. She will see her mis- 
take when she cools down. But — hang it — 1 am 
sorry I put her back up.” 


CHAPTER III. 


FROM HADES TO OLYMPUS. 

The Right Hon. Cephas, Earl of Tantallon 
made himself thoroughly “ to home,” as he ex- 
pressed it, in tlie castle of his ancestors. He ac- 
cepted the stately rooms and the luxurious en- 
vironment as he had accepted the change of name 
— with righteous equanimity, as befitted an emi- 
nent, tho’ retired jurist, who knew his own worth 
and rated himself highly. 

“It’s mighty slick,” he remarked to Jack, who 
accompanied him on his first tour of inspection, 
“ but I won’t say that it can’t be improved. A 
rocker or two here and thar, and a cuspidore would 
liven things up an’ make it more homelike . . . 
eh?” 

“ They can be ordered,” Jack. 

“ Kin they? Wal, you Britishers take a heap o’ 
comfort, but ye don’t know everything. A room 
without a cuspidore ain’t properly furnished.” 

In honor of his installation there was, in the na- 
tural order of events, a vast deal of eating and 
drinking. The Earl swallowed, with much gusto, 
innumerable toddies, and expressed a cordial ap- 
proval of the priceless whiskey that had matured 
228 


FROM HADES TO OLYMPUS. 


229 


and mellowed, by the slow lapse of years, in the 
cob-webbed cellars of his predecessor. 

“It’s as fine a liquor as I ever fiopped my lip 
over,” he said genially ; “ an’ I’m glad thar’s a 
plenty of it left.” 

He alluded with some humor to the attendant 
festivities as his “ coming of age ; ” and the 
amount of champagne that he imbibed, taken in 
connection with the excitement of his exalted 
position and the succulent plats^ that his chef 
served up, certainly added at least a couple of lus- 
tra to his tale of years. If he enjo3^ed, as he cer- 
tainly did, the exercises and prerogatives of his 
high rank it must be remembered by those who 
sin against the tenth commandment, that he duly 
paid the penalty, and was shortly prostrated with 
a sharp attack of that aristocratic distemper — tlie 
gout. 

Jack, as master of the revels, blamed himself 
severely for this unfortunate d'enouement. 

“ That’s all right,” said his kinsman. “ I hev 
had. Jack, the very largest kind of a time, an’ now 
I’m ready to pay the piper, accordin’ to Hoyle.” 

His position was not an unendurable one. From 
his daughter, Jack, and Marie Tantallon, he re- 
ceived the utmost attention, and Mrs. Carrick- 
Fergus and her politic son made themselves as 
agreeable as possible. It was understood that 
Marie should be married from her old home, and 
the Earl insisted that, until then, she should re- 


230 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

main the mistress of the establishment. Being 
confined to his chair, he amused himself by inter- 
viewing in turn his principal servants and tenants. 
Upon his arrival he assembled them together in 
the great hall and made a brief but characteristic 
speech. 

“ My friends,” he began, “ yer probably sur- 
prised, and not overly pleased, to see a rough man 
like me in yer master’s shoes, but I calculate to 
act sqiiar towards ye, an’ I expect that you, on 
yer part, will act squar with me. Whar 1 was 
raised the folks don’t go much on pedigree. We 
size a man up fer what he is, unendorsed save by 
his actions. An American citizen carries his cre- 
dentials in his face, and not in his pocket. If he 
pays his way, and ’tends strictly to his own busi- 
ness, we don’t worry about his birth an’ breedin ’ ; 
not, but what they’re accounted good in their way, 
but we look at ’em as luxuries an’ not necessities. 
Yer know my story, an’ before long yer’ll know 
me, an’ thar’s nothin’ more ter say that I kin think 
of. A man, whether he’s born in a palace like 
this, or in a log hut, sech as I came from, kin only 
do the best he knows how. I shall try an’ do my 
dooty here as I tried to do it back thar in Hard 
Scratch, an’ I expect that yer’ll stay with me an’ 
help me out.” 

After this Jack, very red in the face, stood up 
and delivered himself as follows : 

“ You have heard his lordship, and now I ask 


FROM HADES TO OLYMPUS. 


281 


you to listen to me for a minute or two. His lord- 
ship says you all know his story, but there is one 
thing he has not told you, and that is that he 
saved my life at the risk of his own. So you see 
I owe him a debt which I can never hope to repay. 
Some of you can remember me when I was a boy 
at Eton; and I ask you, as a personal favor, to 
make everything as pleasant as you can to one, 
who comes a stranger to you, and unaccustomed 
to our ways.” 

Then Jack sat down amidst a little tumult of 
applause. 

Marie Tantallon who was next him, pressed his 
hand. 

I am proud of you,” she whispered ; and these 
few simple words set every pulse in his stalwart 
body tingling with pleasure and repaid him for 
the great sacrifice he had made. 

It must be confessed that Puttick, the family 
butler, inspired his noble master with a sentiment 
nearly approaching awe. His solemn and porten- 
tous manner, his irreproachable demeanor under 
trying circumstances, his ripe well-seasoned cheeks 
unfurrowed even by the ghost of a smile, his portly 
presence and low-pitched voice filled the Right 
Hon. Cephas with amazement. 

“ Sit ye down,” he said, in the course of the 
first interview, “sit ye down, and post me a bit.” 

The astonished Puttick nervously seated him- 
self. 


232 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 


“ What is yer name, mister ? ” 

“ Puttick, my lord.” 

“ And yer first name ? ” 

“ My first name, my lord ? ” 

“ Yes — ^yer given name, yer first name.” 

“ Edward, my lord.” 

“•Edward — wal that is a good name, but kinder 
long ; I guess I’ll call yer Ed fer short.” 

The portly Puttick fidgeted in his chair, but 
said nothing. 

“ How many servants air there, Ed, in the 
baronial hall ? ” 

“ There are eighteen indoor servants, my lord.” 

“ Great Csesar’s ghost ! There must be an all- 
fired butcher’s bill ter pay.” 

“Not more, my lord, than in other establish- 
ments of the kind.” 

“ Wal now — how do you all make out together ? 
Any quarrellin’ or squabblin ’? ” 

“We get on very well, my lord, in the room; 
and, I believe, the under-servants have no cause 
for complaint.” 

“ Under-servants,” cried the Earl, “ air there 
under-servants? ” 

“Certainly, my lord, under and upper.” 

“ Which air you Ed? — under or on top.” 

“I am an upper-servant, my lord,” replied Put- 
tick with dignity. 

“Wal,” said the Earl, with emphasis, “in the 
States we do different. However I’m smart 


FROM HADES TO OLYMPUS. 


233 


enough to take things as I find them, and try no 
changes. It’s a good idee ter let every tub stand 
on its own bottom — whar it was intended to stand 
by natur’. My sentiments and political opinions 
air republican, an ’ red hot at that, but I don’t 
propose to make men over to suit myself. I used 
ter claim that a self-evident proposition, like our 
glorious constitootion, must be accepted by every 
thinkin’ person, but I know better now. Wal, 
Ed, yer kin go — I’m glad ter hev made yer ac- 
quaintance, an’ I’ve learnt something from ye. 
In return I’ll give yer a pointer. It’s my experi- 
ence that mankind an’ womankind air like their 
mother-earth in this particular. Yer’ll find ’em in 
different stratas, some soft as clay, an’ others hard 
as Sierry Nevady granite. Wal the clay is good 
fer one thing an’ the granite fer another. But 
the pint I’m makin’ is. this — ^in yer posish as boss 
of the shanty remember that yer go easy with the 
clay.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE OLD LOVE. 

It may be imagined that Jack returned to Tan> 
tallon with very mixed feelings. He had left it, 
a soured and disappointed man, whereas he returned 
in an altogether wholesome and buoyant frame of 
mind ; but the contrast between his past position 
as lord of many acres, and his present state of 
comparative impecuniosity was too marked to be 
pleasant. Then again, he met Marie, not in the 
crowded drawing-rooms of Belgravia, but in the 
familiar seclusion of home life, where they were 
thrown together unreservedly as of old. Her 
marriage could not take place for a month, and, 
pending that event, he had the daily and hourly 
mortification of continually seeing her, as the fox 
in the fable saw the grapes — hopelessly out of 
reach. Unlike the fox he did not, either to him- 
self or to others, depreciate his fair cousin. He 
loved her as loyally as ever, and was fully alive to 
the charms of her person and character ; but he 
found she had changed, and the change perplexed 
him in no small measure. She seemed happ}" and 
full of spirits, but in the eyes of her quondam 
lover something was wanting. A feverish gaiety, 
234 


THE OLD LOVE. 


235 


very foreign to her real nature, had cast a spell 
upon her. She appeared possessed of a very devil 
of merriment, and played the maddest pranks 
upon all who came in contact with her. 

The Earl took an instant liking to the bright 
vivacious girl, a liking which was cordially returned; 
for Marie was quick to perceive, beneath the 
rough speech of her kinsman, a ready courtesy 
and kindly tact that surprised and delighted her. 
Before many days were over he had confided, 
under a solemn seal of secrecy, his views matri- 
monial in regard to Jack and his daughter. 

“ Jack is as straight as a string,” he said. 

“ Indeed he is,” assented Marie. “ Who could 
look at his honest face and doubt it.” 

“ He likes my girl first-rate, but he seems kind 
o’ slow in speakin’ out.” 

“ Are you sure,” she asked gravely, “ that you 
are making no mistake ? ” 

“Not much,” said the Earl, “ why they’re na- 
terally made fer each other.” 

“ Jack is so honorable, and this marriage would 
be so greatly to his advantage, that perhaps on 
that very account he is holding back.” 

“ Yer might say a word to him, Mary.” 

“ If I get a good chance I will,” she smiled, and 
then woman-like sighed. 

The Earl scanned her closely. 

“What do you sigh for?” he asked with west- 
ern abruptness. “ Yer marryin’ the man o’ yer 


236 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

choice, an’ yer oughter be happy an’ feelin’ good. 
I hate ter hear a pretty girl sigh. It makes me 
feel lonesome.” 

His evident anxiety robbed the speech of its, 
crudity. 

“ Thank you,” she replied quietly ; “ you are 
very kind, but you need not worry yourself about 
me, I am quite as happy as I deserve.” 

“ Yer see,” pursued the Earl, “ I am dead stuck 
on this marriage. I feel mean as thunder at havin’, 
so to speak, robbed Jack of his birthright, an’ I’d 
like ter give the half of it up to him right now, 
but the cuss is so dog-goned proud that he won’t 
take it. But if he marries Samantha he’ll hev to 
take some of it along with her, an’ I shall rest 
easier nights.” 

Sometime, however, elapsed before a suitable 
opportunity for sounding her cousin presented it- 
self to Marie, t'antallon persistently avoided her, 
and she knew that this apparent neglect might 
arise from one of two causes. Either he still loved 
her — in which case any interference would be un- 
necessary and unwarrantable ; or, as she preferred 
to think, the memory of the past was still too bit- 
ter to him, as a proud man, to admit of free and 
unrestrained intercourse between them. 

Curiously enough Jack was the first to broach the 
subject. One day he found himself alone with 
her in the library. Five o’clock tea was over and 
the lamps had not yet been brought in. They 


THE OLD LOVE. 


237 


were sitting beside a glorious pine -log fire ; the 
light from the crimson cinders falling fitfully upon 
the brass andirons and gleaming tiles of the old- 
fashioned fireplace. The genial glow thawed out 
the coldness that had interposed its icy barrier be- 
tween them, and insensibly they drifted into easy 
and confidential chat. The conversation turned on 
the Earl and the new order of things at Tantallon. 

“I shall go to America as soon as I can,” said 
Jack. “My position here is most embarrassing.” 

“Embarrassing?” queried Marie. 

“ Yes — embarrassing. You are so quick-witted 
that you must have seen through the old man’s 
little plan. He wants me to marry Samantha.” 

“ It would be the best thing you could do,” she 
murmured. 

“ What — ” he cried sharply — “You counsel me 
to marry a girl for money and position. My God, 
you have changed from the Marie of old ! ” 

He spoke bitterly and with feeling. 

“ I am not advising anything of the kind,” she 
retorted, with a brave show of indignation. “ You 
might marry her for love. She is a charming girl 

— lovable in every way ; and. Jack she 

worships you already. I have read her secret in 
her pretty eyes.” 

She stole a glance at her cousin, but his face 
was no pleasant object of contemplation. His 
heavy brows were contracted in a stern frown, and 
his square jaw protruded aggressively. 


238 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETGHUM. 

As she finished speaking he broke out into a 
hard, mirthless laugh. 

“You women are queer creatures/’ he said. 
“ Do you judge all men by yourselves or by what 
you read of them in modern novels.” 

He got up from his chair and took her hand. 

“ Look at me,” he said. 

She raised her unwilling eyes to his. 

“ What weather-cock estimate have you made 
of me ? Do you place me among ” — he was going 
to say “ the Carrick-Fergus class ” but checked him- 
self in time — “those sleek supercilious snobs who 
change their loves as often and complacently as 
they change their linen. I am not built that way,” 
he concluded with the pathos of nineteenth cen- 
tury slang. “ With me to love once is to love 
always. I shall never marry — never. The sooner 
that poor child is undeceived the better.” 

He turned from her abruptly and left the room. 

Marie quite unstrung by his passionate vehe- 
mence, sat gazing with haggard eyes into the glow- 
ing ashes. Presently she rose and walked wearily 
across the room till she came to a quaint Venetian 
mirror that illuminated a dark corner. By the 
fading light of the dying fire she peered intently 
at her own image. “ I am indeed changed,” she 
whispered, “in mind and body. I hardly know 
myself.” She moved sadly away and sought her 
chamber. 

To return to our caloric hero. He rushed from 


THE OLD LOVE. 


239 


the library with two dominant ideas surging 
through his brain. One that he loved his cousin 
more madly than ever ; the other that Samantha 
must be enlightened at once. Marie had made 
suspicion certainty when she said that the girl al- 
ready loved him. Even as she spoke, a thousand 
half-forgotten trifles gave force to her assertion. 
From the bottom of his soul he pitied her, and 
cursed the untoward fate that had thrown them 
together. Impetuous as the mountain torrent that 
tumbled and tossed over the Tantallon moors, 
he hurried to the Earl’s room, and burst, without 
mentioning Marie’s name into a declaration of his 
passion for a woman not Samantha. 

The old man listened in silence, his iron fingers 
gripping nervously the carved arms of his chair. 
When Jack had finished he made no comment, 
but sat, inert and helpless, under the shock of this 
sudden and grievous disappointment. His strange 
composure alarmed Tantallon. 

“ For God’s sake. Judge, say something. After 
all there cannot be any very great harm done. I 
guessed that you had set your heart on having me 
for a son-in-law, and I thought it my duty to speak 
out, but, bless you, there are dozens of men, my 
superiors in every way, who will be only too de- 
lighted to step into my shoes.” 

“But I want yer. Jack. I want yer, my lad.” 

He spoke so piteously, that Tantallon’s heart 
bled for him. 


240 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“It is impossible,” he said gravely. “I will 
give no woman a damaged life.” • 

The old man shook his head, and pointed ex- 
pressively to a mutilated but matchless bust, pre- 
sumably the work of Praxiteles. 

“ That ain’t the worse fer bein’ a bit chipped,” 
he said. “ I reckon it’s much the same with yer 
heart. Jack. Samantha, if I know her, would 
sooner hev yer, damaged though yer be, than any 
other. Think it over, my lad, an’ take yer time. 
There is more dependin’ on it than meets the 
eye.” 

“ You must tell Samantha what I have told 
you,” said Jack firmly. 

“No.” 

“ But I insist upon it. It would be shameful to 
keep her any longer in ignorance of the facts.” 

“ I won’t tell her,” said the Earl obstinately, “ if 
yer want to break the child's heart, tell her yer- 
self.” 

“ Surely,” cried Jack, aghast at his emphatic 
tone, “ surely it is not as bad as that ! ” 

“ The girl loves yer,” said the ex- Justice. “ You 
can search England through and through, and 
yer can’t find a purer, prettier, faithfuller wife 
than she ’ll make yer. On yer own say-so tlie 
girl yer love won’t take yer, the more fool she. 
Wal — it’s a poor kind o’ white man that loses his 
grip because a woman goes back on him, and if I 
was you. I’d brace up and carry a stiffer tail. It 


THE OLD LOVE. 


241 


’pears ter me that in this case yer should consider 
my girl — an’ not yerself. Yer ’ve made her love 
yer, an’ ter my thinkin’ yer responsible ter God 
as well as ter me. And then there’s another thing. 
If yer leave her an’ give up all idee of marryin’ an 
settlin’ down, yer’ll go plumb to the deuce, an yer 
know it. I don’t want ter break my little girl’s 
heart, an’ I don’t want ter boost yer out o’ Heaven, 
so I’ll keep my mouth shet.” 

Tantallon hesitated. It must be confessed that 
the “Judge’s” words carried a certain weight. 

The old man saw his advantage, and artfully 
pursued it. 

“ Yer pride yerself,” he continued, “ on yer 
honor an’ chivalry, an’ I’ll allow that yer ’ve given 
me solid proofs of both ; but yer lookin’ at this 
from a selfish an’ ridiklous pint o’ view. It is the 
opinion of this court that when a man has no use 
fer anything, he had a denied sighs better hand it 
over to them as has. Yer heart may seem of little 
vally to ye but it’s everything in the world ter my 
little girl. Women, poor ignorant things, take 
more stock in love than men, an’ it’s a good idee 
ter let ’em hev their own way wlien yer kin an’ 
not play the dog in the manger. Yer kin jedge o’ 
what I say accordin ter the lights vouchsafed ye, 
an’ I reckon yer ’ll come round ter my posish, an’ 
we’ll all be happy.” 

No more was said, but Jack as he dressed for 
dinner chewed the cud of many reflections. There 
16 


242 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM . 

was a touch of Don Quixote in our friend, and the 
“ Jedge ” had appealed to it. At the same time 
his common sense warned him of the moral preci- 
pice that he was approaching. 

As he tied his cravat with Etonian accuracy, 
his servant brought him a letter on a salver. He 
glanced at the superscription carelessly and ut- 
tered an ejaculation. It was from Britton and bore 
the New York post-mark. 

He broke the seal and read it at once. 

Brevoort House, New York. 

My Dear Jack : — “ I shall be in London al- 
most as soon as this letter. If you are in town 
will you hunt me up at the Metropole : if not I 
will run down to Tantallon where I suppose you 
are at present. I have a plan to propose in re- 
gard to your future that will I think meet with 
your approval. No time for more. Etc., etc.” 

Tantallon took a telegram form and wrote as 
follows : 

To Henry Britton, Esq., 

Hotel Metropole, London. 

“ Come up here as soon as you can. 

Jack.” 

When this had been sent off he felt easier in his 
mind. He had great faith in Britton’s judgment, 
and was fairly certain that he would look at the 
matter from his (Jack’s) point of view. 


THE OLD LOVE. 


243 


“ At any rate,” be muttered, as he walked down 
stairs, “ I can ask his advice, and if I don't like it, 
I needn’t take it.” 

With this profound reflection he went in to 
dinner, but somehow his customary appetite failed 
him. 


CHAPTER V. 


MISGIVINGS. 

During Jack’s absence in America, Marie Tan- 
tallon awoke to the unpleasing fact that Carrick- 
Fergus was not exactly what her girlish fancy had 
pictured him to be. An unsympathetic tone per- 
vaded his conversation and conduct which jarred 
upon her, and aroused, not her suspicion — she was 
too loyal a woman to suspect the man she loved — 
but her apprehensions for their future happiness. 
She vaguely feared, as a child fears darkness, the 
unplumbed depths of her Romeo’s character. Not 
that Alick sinned in any marked degree against 
the canons of good taste and gentle breeding ; 
but he would habitually speak with a graceful 
levity upon subjects which in her eyes were almost 
sacred. One instance, among many, will be suf- 
ficient. 

They were talking of Mrs. Forsyth. 

You were once a great friend of hers ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Carrick-Fergus unblushingly. “ I 
like all charming women, and she is very charm- 
ing indeed.” 

The world says she does strange things. She 
is certainly very free and easy with men. Why I 
244 


MISGIVINGS. 


245 


heard her swear several times in the course of one 
game of billiards. I cannot understand a woman 
being so unmindful of the decencies and proprie- 
ties. Why does she do it ? ” 

“ It is silly of her,” admitted Alick. 

“ I spoke to her about it, and she laughed, and 
said that men liked an unconventional woman.” 

“ They don’t,” said Alick, “ no man likes to 
hear a woman swear. Swearing women, and rac- 
ing women, and shooting women are all abomina- 
tions ; but a pretty face covers a multitude of 
sins.” 

“ If you call yourself her friend why did you 
not give her a hint.” 

“ Find fault with a pretty woman ! Why, my 
dear Marie, that would indeed be a hHise. Always 
keep disagreeable truths for disagreeable people.” 

“ You would hold your tongue then if you saw 
a friend of yours about to commit a folly?” 

“ Most decidedly. It is not my mission in life 
to reform my acquaintance. By Jove if it were, 
my time would be fully occupied.” 

“ It is everybody’s business to do as much good 
as they can. When you laugh at a poor silly 
woman, you tacitly encourage her. It is des- 
picable — despicable.” 

Carrick-Fergus laughed coolly. 

“ That indignant look of yours is immense,” he 
said. “ Cultivate your innocent enthusiasms, 
Marie, they do you credit.” 


246 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


Much chagrined, but too proud to show her 
feelings, she abruptly changed the conversation. 
After a few similar experiences, the thought of 
her lover’s possible unworthiness filled her with 
misgiving. 

Mrs. Carrick-Fergus read her ingenuous face 
like an open book. 

‘‘ You know, my dear, that Alick has one fault. 
He tries to make people believe that he is worldly 
and selfish. It is the harmless and pardonable 
vanity of a young man. But if you look at his 
face, you will see what he really is.” 

‘Mt is a beautiful face,” said Marie eagerly. 
“ Other men, compared with him, seem so gross 
and commonplace.” 

“ My child,” pursued Mrs. Carrick-Fergus, in 
her oleaginous tones, “ his face is an index to his 
soul. He is as different morally from the men of 
his generation, as he is physically.” 

After this, whenever her heart rebelled against 
the worldly wisdom of her Adonis, she would still 
its fluttering with allopathic doses of physiog- 
nomy. She would critically examine the high 
brow, the delicate mouth and perfect chin ; and 
inhale gratefully the subtle poison those faultless 
features distilled. Under the action of this meta- 
phorical digitalis her throbbing apprehensions 
lulled themselves to sleep, only to palpitate more 
vigorously when the ephemeral effect of the drug 
wore off. In his presence, she never faltered in 


MISGIVINGS. 


247 


her allegiance ; but absent, she mistrusted him and 
. . . herself. 

Unfortunately there was no person to whom she 
might apply for advice and sympathy. She had, 
it is true, sworn an eternal friendship with Lady 
Biddulph ; but Lad}" Biddulph was a comparative 
stranger; and the proud Scotch girl naturally hesi- 
tated to lay bare her bleeding heart. Once she 
vouchsafed that acute lady a glimpse of her 
wounds. 

“ I suppose,” she said, with well assumed 
carelessness, “ that all men nowadays wear a 
mask.” 

“ You must be more explicit, Marie.” 

“ Well we women pretend a good deal, you 
know. We are taught in the schoolroom to 
adapt ourselves as much as possible to the tastes 
and idiosyncracies of Mrs. Grundy. We call it 
tact, but I suspect the recording angel has a 
harder name for it. Now. . .” 

Lady Biddulph interrupted her. “A Juvenal 
in petticoats,” she cried. 

“ I am not joking,” said Marie. “I am serious. 
I hate humbug, and the more it is gilded, the 
worse I hate it! ” 

“ My dear Marie,” replied her friend, the light 
dying out of her eyes, “you are very young and 
very very innocent. You have lived in a grim old 
castle, and peopled it with the impossible crea- 
tures of your fancy. Naturally you look at the 


248 THE R03IANCE OF JUDGE KETCH mi. 

world with startled eyes. Your moral horizon is 
bounded with the infinitely great, and your phy- 
sical one by the infinitely small. Now you must 
learn to distinguish the true from the sham. We 
are all gilded, or tarnished, with a veneer of hum- 
bug; but some of us are quite honorable and hon- 
est folk in spite of it.” 

“ I know that, but how am I to distinguish the 
silver from the plating ? ” 

Lady Biddulph felt no inclination to laugh 
now. She realized the situation, and the delicacy 
of her position. She guessed, with swift sympathy, 
that beneath the crude generalities of this inex- 
perienced girl, lay a bitter, breathing personality. 
Would she be justified under the circumstances in 
tearing the veil aside. Her warm heart said — 
Yes : her cool judgment, as a woman of society 
whispered — No. Being a true daughter of Eve 
she temporized. 

“You must test them,” she said at length. 

“ How — how ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you that, Marie. There is no 
royal road to such knowledge.” 

She hesitated, but finally plucked up a little 
courage and proceeded. “ If you would give me 
your full confidence, Marie, I might advise you 
and help you.” 

The girl drew in at once. 

. “ I am only vaguely asking for information, 
Lady Biddulph. I am inexperienced and you are 


MISGIVINGS. 


249 


SO kind and clever. When I spoke I was not 
thinking of anyone in particular.” 

Her simple loyalty charmed Lady Biddulph, 
but at the same time cut the ground from her feet. 
It was at this juncture, face to face with this im- 
penetrable reserve, that she had an inspiration. 

“I can give you one hint,” she said earnestly. 
“And, Marie, you will do well to remember it. I 
bought my experience, as you must buy yours; 
and I have kept my eyes open — widely open. 
Women are handicapped in many ways. As girls 
they view life through rose-colored spectacles, and 
when they take them off for the first time, they 
naturally undergo more or less of a shock. Their 
poor eyes are so unaccustomed to the glare that 
they refuse to perform their office properly. 
Everything and everybody appear distorted, but 
luckily for us we have a faculty that we can call 
upon in this emergency : the blessed gift of — 
intuition. Cultivate your intuition, Marie, and 
if it tells you to mistrust a man or woman, be on 
your guard. You are alone in the world, but like 
Una, you have a lion with you, and at the approach 
of danger he will warn you, and I hope protect 
you.” 

These words fell upon fertile soil and brought 
forth an abundant harvest of doubt and perplexit}- . 
At this crisis came the news of Judge Ketchum’s 
translation to a seat in the House of Peers. The 
girl greedily grasped the opportunity of testing 


250 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


the devotion of her lover. If he had wooed her 
not wholly for herself he would now shew himself 
in his true colors. She wrote the letter that the 
reader will remember, releasing Alick from his^ 
engagement. With the most poignant anxiety 
she awaited his reply : it came, and she read it 
with tears in her eyes. He was true, trueassteeU 
chivalrous as any paladin at Charlemagne’s court. 
How wicked she had been to doubt him : how 
unwomanly : how cruel. He was ready to share 
a pittance with her : not only ready but willing ta 
brave poverty for her sake. 

In this exalted mood she met him on his return 
North. The coldness of his greeting, contrasted 
with the ardor of his letter might have staggered 
the faith of a more experienced girl ; but Marie in 
the fulness of her heart took no note of such 
trivial shortcomings as a caress more or less. She 
accepted him as some old-fashioned people accept 
the creed of their fathers — dutifully. 


CHAPTER VI. 


A MODERN MACHIAVELLI. 

It is the part of a philosopher to take all things 
whether for good or evil patiently, save the tooth- 
ache, and to adapt himself to his environment 
without undue elation or needless repining. Jack 
had repeated this to himself more than once — and 
yet — now that he had need of it, his philosophy 
proved a reed of straw, a mere blade of grass 
shaken by the rustle of a maiden’s petticoats. 

The day following his conversation with the 
Earl ushered in one of those boisterous mornings, 
when wind and rain, struggling mightily for the 
mastery, render outdoor occupation impossible. 
Jack, after heartily cursing the weather, retired to 
the billiard room to practise the spot stroke, and to 
meditate the while upon his private affairs. 

He knocked the balls about for nearly an hour, 
and then finding a box of unimpeachable cigars 
upon the mantel-piece, lit one and settled down in 
front of the fire for what he called “ a think.” 
The cigar was well matured and smoked smoothly 
with a fine white ash ; so Jack tried a second and 
began unconsciousl}^ to feel less blue. Presently 
the door opened and the Earl came in. 

251 


252 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ Yer takin’ a heap o’ comfort, Jack.” 

“Yes,” said Jack, “I presume these weeds are 
yours. Judge, they are first class smokes. Where 
did you get them ? ” 

The Earl examined the box. 

“ They’re not mine. Jack. I like my cigars^ 
green.” 

“They belong then to Alick,” said Jack. “I 
must say he treats himself well. The Prince does 
not smoke a better cigar than this, and the care- 
less beggar does not lock them up.” 

The Earl took one himself, and proceeded to 
eat it, after the most approved fashion of Hard 
Scratch. 

“ That young feller, Jack, is slick as axle 
grease ; but, I reckon his forte is spendin’ the spon- 
dulicks an’ not makin’ them. It’s mighty lucky 
fer him that he’s marryin’ a girl with a bank ac- 
count of her own.” 

“She hasn’t much left now. Judge.” It was 
the first time the subject of Marie’s fortune had 
been broached. 

“ Wal,” said the old man, “I hev not hed an 
opportoonity to speak to Mary, but I’ll see that 
she ain’t no loser. What she got under her grand- 
father’s will she kin count on from me — whenever 
she wants it. But, Jack, I hev an idee— a good 
idee.” 

“ Your ideas are generally good. Judge.” 

“ I’ve bin thinkin’, my lad, that this Apoller 


A MODERN MACHIAVELLI. 


253 


ain’t worthy of Mary, whose price is way above 
diamonds an’ rubies.” 

The reader will please remember that the Earl 
was not cognizant of Jack’s hopeless passion for 
Marie. Our hero had told him frankly that his 
heart had been given to another woman, but na- 
turally he had not mentioned her name. 

“ Yer see,” proceeded the Earl, “ I kin think a 
dernedsight better an’ quicker than I kin talk--an’ 
I say I’ve bin thinkin’ an’ studdyin’ an studdyin’ 
an thinkin’ ; an’ it ’s the opinion o’ this court that 
he ain’t in no way worthy o’ so much sweetness. 
But, pridin’ myself on bein’ an impartial jedge. 
I’d kinder like ter hev a little mite o’ proof before 
renderin’ jedgment.” 

“ Ah” — said Jack, “ and where do you expect 
to find your little mite of proof. He has behaved 
well so far. I dislike the fellow personally, but 
to give the devil his due, he has acted as a gentle- 
man and a man of honor.” 

“ Thet, Jack, is as may be. Tt would be a 
curous thing if he was tryin’ to ring in a cold deck 
on us — eh ? ” 

“ I don’t quite take you.” 

“ Wal — suppose now that we was all hevin’ a 
game o’ euchre an’ he hed the Joker up his slee\e 
unbeknown to you and me.” 

“ Go on, Judge.” 

“ I put it up this yere way. If I ain’t makin’ a 
terrible miscue, he’s made his calculations an’ now 


254 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHU3L 

he’s waitin’ fer me to shew my hand. If I come 
along with the dollars, he’ll come along with the 
weddin’ ring ; but if I go back on the ole gen’le- 
man’s will, he’ll go back on Mary.” 

“ By Jove — Henry Britton said much the same 
thing.” 

“I want ter know! Wal, if Henry Britton 
said that, he knew his man. He’s considerable of 
a jedge o’ human natur. Yer see. Jack, in dealin’ 
with sech cusses as I take this Alexander ter be, 
yer opinion, my lad, ain’t worth a continental. It 
takes an old timer ter size ’em up. If Britton 
thinks as I do, it’s purty much of a cert. I ain’t 
a sure shot man, but I’d gamble on this.” 

“Phew ” cried Jack, his face crimson 

with emotion ; “ if he is contemplating anything 
of that kind, he’ll have to answer to me.” 

“ If necessary. Jack, I’ll take a hand myself. 
Wal, I’ve told yer my idee, an now fer my plan. 
I don’t propose ter pay over no twenty thousand 
pounds ontil after the weddin’, an’ I don’t propose 
ter say a word about no twenty thousand pounds 
till then.” 

He looked so quizzically triumphant that Jack 
roared with laughter. 

“Machiavelli was a fool to you, Judge.” 

“I never heard tell of him. Jack. Was he an 
American citizen ? ” 

“ No — but he ought to have been. He was the 
prince of schemers.” 


A MODERN MACHIAVELLL 


255 


This tribute to his powers delighted the ex-jus 
tice. 

“ Wal,” he confessed modestly, “ I’m purty 
good on the scheme, an’ when it comes ter readin’ 
faces, I won’t take a back-seat fer no man.” 

“ I told you that I wired to Henry Britton last 
night. He may arrive any moment.” 

“ He'll help us considerable.” Then he changed 
the subject. 

“ Hev you figured on what I said last night- 
Jack ? ” 

“I have thought it over — in fact I have thought 
of nothing else ; but I have come to no conclusion.” 

“ No ? Thet’s bad.” 

“ You mustn’t press me, old fellow. Marriage 
is a serious thing. Some clever man has said that 
it is more serious than death.” 

The Earl moved uneasily in his padded chair. 

“ Jack,” he said suddenly, “ I want ter ask yer 
a question. Is a man punished fer his sins in this 
world or the next ? ” 

“ How can anybody answer such a question as 
that, Judge. I suspect that, no matter what the 
future may hold in store for us, we most of us pay 
the penalty of our misdeeds here on earth.” 

“ I told yer I did a mean thing once, a devilish 
mean thing; an’ I’m wonderin’. Jack, whether the 
penalty is all paid.” 

Tantallon gazed into the fire. He understood 
the value of sympathetic silence. 


256 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ SjDeakin’ o’ marryin’ an’ death put me in mind 
of it. Yer know what it was. I ran away with 
another man’s wife. She hed loved me before 
ever he saw her ; but she was tempted with jewels 
an’ money an’^ dazzled-like poor thing, she married 
him. He made her a good husband, an’ thought 
the hull world of her ; but her mind ran on me. 
Ter make a long story short, I got away with her. 
After that. Jack, nothing prospered with me ontil 
now, an’ I’m wonderin’ if the ban is lifted, an’ 
the reckonin’ paid.” 

“ I sincerely hope so,” said Tantallon warmly. 
“ You have bitterly repented, and it is useless now 
to take a morbid view of what is past and gone. 
The mischief is done.” 

Yes — ” said the Earl in a low tone. “ The mis- 
chief is done. Jack, long ago, but I’m thinkin’ 

that it ain’t altogether paid for.” 


CHAPTER VIL 


ALICK OPENS THE CAMPAIGN. 

Britton duly arrived at the M^tropole, where 
he found Jack’s telegram awaiting him. He also 
found, much to his disgust, a syndicate of English 
capitalists, anxious to establish an international 
salt trust, who gave him no peace until he had 
promised his active co-operation. 

“ I am sorry,” he wired to his friend, “ but I am 
unavoidably detained here. As soon as I can, I 
shall come north, but jmu need not expect me for 
at least a week. Give my kindest regards to the 
Earl.” 

Jack’s first impulse on the receipt of this was 
to get aboard the “ Flying Scotchman ” without 
delay, but on second thought he decided to remain 
at Tantallon. 

“ I’ll keep an eye on Alick,” he thought, as he 
flexed his biceps, and clenched his fist. “ He’s 
making a dead set at Samantha. Damn him — I’d 
like to make a punching ball of his head for half 
an hour. Precious little spooning he’d do after I 
had finished with him. The extraordinary thing is 
that Samantha seems completely fascinated. She 
deliberately draws him on, and encourages him. 

17 257 


258 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

The Judge, poor old chap, has deceived himself ; 
she evidently cares nothing for me, thank Heaven. 
Well it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.” 

He had reason for his words. Carrick-Fergus, 
after sundry hints, had come to the conclusion that 
the Earl meant to draw his purse strings tight so 
far as he and Marie were concerned. 

“It is evident,” he said to his mother, “that 
this wild man of the woods has no intention of be- 
having like a gentleman. I was a fool to expect 
that he would. Now — in self-defence — I must 
break my engagement, or rather make Marie break 
it for me.” 

He went cautiously to work ; but a rival’s eyes 
are proverbially keen, and Jack was quick to note 
his gradual, but systematic defection. He under- 
took the invidious task of closely watching his 
cousin, and to better further his purpose, assumed 
an innocent air of vacuous good-humor that would 
have deceived the great Vidocq himself. Alick, 
having all his life underrated Jack, was blissfully 
unconscious of any espionage, and played com- 
pletely into our hero’s hands. For several days 
in succession he neglected Marie, and lavished his 
attentions on Samantha. The former — no weep- 
ing Ariadne —bitterly resented this faithlessness, 
and treated him as he had foreseen, with cutting 
coldness. She was too proud to complain, and too 
honest to pay him back in his own coin ; but, un- 
consciously, she sought the ready sympathy and 


A LICK OPENS THE CAMPAIGN. 


259 


friendship of Jack, and, in her desolation met liim 
once more on their old familiar footing. 

Samantha, meanwhile, had the cruel mortifica- 
tion of seeing the swain she had appointed for 
herself completely absorbed by another woman. 
This seeming treachery apparently overpowered 
her judgment ; for whenever her father’s back was 
turned, she flirted recklessly with Alick, who ac- 
counted for his success as usual on the score of his 
irresistible personal attractions. He had at first 
suspected a latent tendresse for Jack, and took an 
early opportunity to abort it, if it existed. 

“You know why Jack left England,” he asked 
her. 

“Why did he? ” 

“ Because he was desperately in love with Marie 
— and is still.” 

His words, taken in connection with the evi- 
dence of her own eyes, tolled the knell of her 
moribund hopes; but she was a plucky girl and 
made no sign. The man watching her with keen 
gaze, heaved a sigh of relief. 

“ She cares nothing for him,” he decided. 

“You see,” he continued, with easy bonhomie., 
“my position in the matter has been a peculiaily 
delicate one. Marie was always intended for Jack, 
and the old Earl, confound him, disinherited her 
when he found out his mistake. Of course it was 
not my fault that she preferred me, but Jack re- 
sented it strongly at the time and resents it still. 


260 THE E03rANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

He looks upon Marie as a sort of saint ; you must 
have noticed it.” 

The poor child needed no further confirmation 
of her fears. 

“ I have noticed it,” she replied, quietly. 

“You must also have noticed his antipathy to 
me.” 

“ You neither of you appeared very friendly.” 

“ I am friendly enough,” said Alick, magnani- 
mously. “I have not a high opinion of Jack. He 
runs too much to muscle; but I have made allow- 
ances for him, and I don’t think he is treating me 
at all well. He makes love to my promised wife 
under my very nose.” 

“ Why do you allow it ? ” 

Alick shrugged his shapely shoulders. 

“I hate to make a fuss. An3Thing for a quiet 
life.” 

“ Go on,” she said, sharply. “ You interest me.” 

“Besides,” he added slowly, “at times lately — 
1 have thought that. . . perhaps .... I had — 
well — made a mistake.” 

Samantha fixed her inscrutable eyes upon his 
face with such intensit}^ that, practised actor 
though he was, he visibly faltered. 

“ Made a mistake,” she repeated. “ What do 
you mean ? ” 

“ Oh, of course I love Marie very dearlj^ ; but 
she doesn’t love me in return as she might. The 
French have a proverb. . .” 


ALICE OPENS THE CAMPAIGN. 


261 


“ I don’t understand French,*’ interposed Saman- 
tha. 

“ Loosely translated it means — that wherever 
you find two lovers, one of them kisses while the 
other only turns the cheek.” 

“ Ah — ” she said, softly — “ Marie turns you her 
cheek. How terrible that must be to a fond lover 
like you.” 

Her irony was lost upon his colossal conceit. 

“ It is” — he said — terrible.” 

“ I feel sorry for Marie,” proceeded Saman- 
tha. 

“ Sorry for Marie ! Why I call that a good 
joke. I think you might be sorry for me.” 

“ I am sorry for Marie because she is a woman. 
A man can always take care of himself.” 

“ You are different from most girls, Samantha ; 
you stick up for your own sex.” 

“ All American girls do that.” 

“ But you are an English girl now.” 

“No, sir — I am nothing of the kind. As an 
English girl, I should have to take meekly the 
position assigned to English girls, and I don’t pro- 
pose to do anything of the sort — not much.” 

“ But you like Englishmen, don’t you?” 

“ Yes I do. But I am not blind to their faults. 
They treat women as if they were irresponsible 
children. No American woman submits to that.” 

“What experience have 5^ou had, Samantha ?” 

“ Quite sufficient to form an opinion. Come 


262 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


now, confess that you don’t consider Marie your 
intellectual equal. Tell the truth.” 

“ Certainly I don’t. She is hardly out of the 
school- room, and totally inexperienced.” 

‘"In many things — yes — but she’ll catch on 
quicker than you think. Women are smarter 
than men if you only give them a chance. In 
America they get their chance — here they don’t. 
Why look at me, I’m from the back- woods; but 
I’m not afraid of you nor any one else. My 
father is a rough, unpolished man: much as I 
honor and respect him, I know that. Now if he 
had lived in England, he would have kept me 
down to his own level. He would have had no 
ambition to see me rise superior to the accident of 
birth ; but being an American, he gave me every 
advantage, and alwaj^s treated me as a friend and 
equal. I have plenty to learn and plenty to un- 
learn, but born in England what should I have 
been to-day.” 

This clean-cut speech made an impression on 
Alick. From her silence he had not supposed her 
capable of so lucidly expressing herself. Hence- 
forth his admiration of her person was enhanced 
by respect for her wit. 

“In America,” pursued Samantha, “woman ex- 
ercises a wonderful personal influence : the men 
are all hunting the Almighty dollar ; and in the 
rush to get rich, the fine edge of their manners 
and morals sometimes becomes blunt. It is 


ALICK OPENS THE CAMPAIGN. 


263 


woman’s mission to sharpen it again. The result 
is that in her home she wields a greater power 
than the man, and without interfering with his 
rights, expects and demands recognition of her own. 
There is plenty of work that can be done only by 
men, and plenty that can be done only by women. 
Why should there be any rivalry, except an hon- 
orable one, between the sexes ? Why should not 
each encourage and stimulate in the other quali- 
ties he or she may be deficient in ? ” 

“ Do all American girls talk and think like 
you,” asked Alick. 

“ I don’t know much about society girls,” re- 
plied Samantha, “ but the middle-class girl is, 
like me, a stickler for her rights. Ever since I 
went to school T heard these things discussed. I 
have not had a classical education, and I don’t 
express myself as well as I might, but I think 
that I am a fair type of the average American 
young woman.” 

I always have Piked American girls,” here- 
plied, evading any direct answer to her argument. 
“ They are so bright and wide-awake. English 
girls are slow and heavy in hand. When they 
marry, they blossom forth into charming women ; 
but as girls they are uninteresting and — as Byron 
says — smell of bread and butter. Now Marie, 
with all her education, does not talk half as well 
as you do.” 

A few days previously Samantha would have re-- 


264 THE ROBIANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

bilked this kind of talk as savoring unlover-liko 
heresy. Alick proceeded. 

“ American girls are so companionable. They 
make allowances for a fellow. They can appre- 
ciate facts as they are and not as they would like 
them to be.” 

“They are not so easily taken in,” said Samantha. 

“Please don’t be sarcastic, Samantha. A pretty 
woman should never mar her attractiveness with 
that two-edged sword — her tongue.” 

“ Do you call me a pretty woman. You are the 
the first man who ever told me so. Englishmen 
never pay compliments — do they? They always 
say what they mean.” 

“ So Jack Tantallon never told you that you 
were pretty ? ” 

“Never.” She sighed as she thought how 
pleasant such words would have sounded — coming 
from him. 

That night Carrick-Fergus, who, to do him jus- 
tice was no laggard in love, retired to rest in 
jubilant spirits. He had opened his campaign 
with brilliant prospects, and in his opinion an as- 
sured success was only a question of time. 

“ There must be a fate in these things,” he 
muttered as he drew the lavender scented sheets 
up to his nose. “ I have had the devil’s own luck 
so far; but the tide has turned at last. Samantha 
is a fetching little witch and of course will have 
her share of the old man’s pile.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


STJAVITER IN MODO. 

Marie Tantallon refused for some days to be- 
lieve the evidence of her own eyes, as evinced by 
her lover’s faithlessness. She even gave him sev- 
eral chances to reinstate himself in her good 
graces — chances, which it is needless to say, the 
astute Alick did not take advantage of. On the 
contrary he pursued his quarry with such assiduity 
that the Earl himself took cognizance of the chase 
and, thoroughly incensed, read the riot act to his 
daughter.. 

For the first time in her life Samantha answered 
defiantly. 

“ Why should I not amuse myself ! ” 

“Amuse yerself,” repeated the Earl in disgust; 
“if yer call sech sickenin’ tomfoolery amoose- 
ment I’ve nothin’ ter say. But it’s tough — dog- 
goned tough — on Mary.” 

“ She can console herself with another man.” 

“ She kin ; an’ if she knew what was good fer 
her health that’s jest what she’d do. Bein’ an in- 
nercent maid, an’ knowin’ nothin’ of the world, 
the flesh an’ the devil, she’s sot her heart on a 
deadhead, or a deadbeat whichever yer please.” 

265 


266 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 


“ She might have married Jack.” 

“ Eh . . said the Earl. 

“ Jack was in love with Marie before he went to 
America. He asked her to marry him.” 

“ Great Scot ! ” 

“ He is in love with her still,” proceeded 
Samantha. “ Head over heels.” 

The Earl wiped the perspiration from his brow. 

“ Air yer sure o’ this, child ? ” 

“ I know it for a fact.” 

The Earl gazed at her in blank dismay. 

“ This is a nice howdy-do,” he murmured. 

“ He proposed to Marie before she became en- 
gaged to Alick. She was free to accept him, but 
she refused him flatly.” 

“ An’ took the dude. Wal, thar’s no accountin’ 
fer tastes. Back in Hard Scratch thar was folks 
as preferred the smell o’ manure ter the scent o’ 
roses and orange-blossoms ; but I give Mary credit 
fer more sense. Anyway out o’ evil comes good. 
If he’d married Mary what would hev become o’ 
you, Samanthy ? ” 

The girl paid no attention to his question. 

“ He gave everything up for us,” she whispered. 

“ That’s what he done, Samanthy. He acted 
squar an’ honerable. Thar ain’t a better or 
squarer man than Jack in the hull wide world. 
Thet’s why I’d like ter see yer married ter him be- 
fore I send in my checks. I ain’t a goin’ ter live 
extry long, child. This yere eatin’ an’ drinkin’. 


SUAVITER IN Mono. 


267 


an’ idlin’ is playin’ the mischief with my machin- 
ery. The doctor give me notice that I’d need ter 
be mighty keerful ; an’ the ole cuss meant it as a 
warnin’ ; an’ I told him thet I was obligated ter 
him fer speakin’ out.” 

Samantha flung her arms round his neck. 

“ Don’t — don’t,” she cried. “ You’ll break my 
heart, if you talk of leaving me.” 

“ Wal,” said the Earl. “ Death must be faced, 
Samanthy. Thar’s no runnin’ away from him. 
He an’ I hev bin pardners many a time, an’ when 
he passes the word. I’ll ante up with a smile if I 
kin. But it worries me like the old Harry ter 
leave my little girl behind with no one ter look 
after her. The boys air too young, an’ matrimony 
is sech a derned lottery that yer liable ter draw a 
blank if I’m not around to post ye. I’d feel a 
sight easier if yer was married to Jack, with 
babies, an’ sech like interests.” 

“I cannot do what you wish,” she replied, 
slowly, the delicate color fading from her cheeks. 
“ I mean in regard to Jack. Don’t deceive your- 
self, father.” 

“But if the boy asked yer. Yer wouldn’t say JVb 
then?” 

“I should say — No— even then.” 

The Tantallon temper began to show itself. 

“ Will yer tell me ter my face that you don’t 
love him ? ” 

Samantha gazed steadily into her father’s 


268 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM 

flushed, angry features. Then she averted her 
eyes, and twisted her hands convulsively. 

“I don’t love him,” she answered almost in- 
audibly. 

“ Then I know,” thundered the old man, “ why 
yer foolin’ with another girl’s belongin’s. Yer 
stuck on the shape o’ that smooth-tongued dude — 
Alexander ; but, mark me, Samantliy, yer’ll hev 
ter quit right away. Do yer hear me ? ” 

‘‘ And suppose I don’t quit ? ” she asked quietly. 

The Earl groaned and regarded her strangely 
for fully a minute. When he spoke again there 
was no trace of passion in his voice, but to the 
woman standing in front of him it sounded cold 
and unfamiliar. 

“ If yer don’t quit — I’ve nothin' ter say. But 
Samanthy, I’m disapinted in yer. I’d sized yer up 
fer an honest an’ proud girl. If I’ve made a mis- 
cue it’s my fault. Yer kin go.” 

He pointed to the door and Samantha, without 
a word, left the room. The Earl sat down in his^ 
padded chair, and sighed heavily. 

“ The mother’s croppin’ out,” he muttered. “I 
feared it would, an’ I reckon it’s a part o’ the pun> 
ishment; but, somehow, I kinder thought Saman- 
thy ’ud hev acted different.” 

Meantime Samantha had betaken herself to the 
rose garden ; where, in the most secluded spot,, 
her feelings found vent in a hearty cry. She re- 
sented the discordant present as an outrage on the 


SUAVJTER IN MODO. 


269 


harmonious past, and, in spite of her strong will, 
wept like a child. How eagerly she had looked 
forward to the tangible joys of wealth and rank, 
and now the glowing possibilities of the future 
had turned to ashes in her mouth. Presently the 
bitterness of her passion exhausted itself, and she 
sat, chewing the cud of her reflections, the shadows 
of the past flitting mournfully before her eyes. 
Absorbed in thought as she was, the sound of 
footsteps on the gravel fell heedlessly on her ear. 
When it was too late to^ retreat, she looked up and 
saw the man whom of all men she least wished to 
meet alone — , Jack Tantallon. 

He gazed speechlessly at her reddened eyelids 
and tear-stained cheeks. The sight of distress al- 
ways moved him profoundly. Offended as he was 
with Samantha, on account of her flirtation with 
Alick, he had no feeling for her at the present 
save pure pity. 

He sat down beside her, and said in his kind- 
liest tones, “You are in trouble, Samantha.” 

She was too honest to deny it. 

“ I have been crying,” she replied, simply, “ and 
it has done me good. It helps a woman you 
know, just as swearing helps a innn.” 

She tried to smile, but her lips twitched; ai d 
Jack, with characteristic delicacy, kept his eyes 
on a small weed that impudently asserted its 
claim to existence in the center of the carefully 
raked gravel walk. 


270 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ You are changed, Samantha. You are not 
the light-hearted girl I knew in Hard Scratch.*’ 

“ Ah. .” she replied. “Those were happy days.” 

Tantallon confessed himself puzzled. Of late 
lie had deeply resented the apparent frivolity of 
her conduct, and had been revolving in his mind 
the advisability of cogent cousinly remonstrance. 
The word diplomacy was not to be found in his 
vocabulary, but he could display, on occasions, a 
clean-cut readiness of speech that was refreshing 
in its crispness and directness. Seeing now no 
other way of cutting the Gordian knot, he said 
curtly. 

“ Samantha — what is your object in encouraging 
the attentions of Alick Carrick-Fergus ? He is 
an engaged man, and a flirtation with him is most 
compromising to you. I take a great interest in 
you, and. . . .” 

Her face hardened perceptibly. 

“ You are very kind,” she began. 

“ Come now,” said Jack, with red face and halt- 
ing utterance. “ You know what I mean, Saman- 
tha. I’m not much of a hand at fault-finding or 
interference, but you must admit I have some 
right in this case to speak out. It’s not fair on 
Marie.” 

She turned upon him quickly. 

“ You don’t like your cousin — Alick? ” 

“I do not,” he answered, candidly, “ but that 
has nothing to do with the question. Marie has 


SUAVITER IN MODO. 


271 


made her choice as every woman has a right to do. 
As a man of honor I must acquiesce in it, although 
I don’t pretend to approve of it.” 

“ You are ready to pick the mote out of my eye, 
but you ” 

Taiifallon did not allow her to finish her sentenc. 

‘‘Do you accuse me of flirting with Marie ?” he 
asked quickly. 

“ It looks very like it,” she said, tranquilly. 

Jack jumped up. 

“ I am not going to argue the matter ; but I 
solemnly swear that neither by word or deed have 
I done anything of the kind. Marie is very dear 
to me ; as children we were as brother and sister. 
She is to be married in a month, and common de- 
cency should keep her lover by her side. Instead 
of that he takes every opportunity of openly 
flirting with you.” 

“ It seems to me,” said Samantha, coldly, that 
you are taking too much on j^ourself. If Alick 
goes back on Marie, she will be well quit of him, 
won’t she ? You say you don’t approve of her 
choice. If you keep quiet now she may soon be 
free to marry a more worthy man.” 

Jack started. This view of the question had 
not suggested itself to him before. 

“ I don’t quite follow you,” he said, slowly. 
“ Anyway I won’t say more just now. I spoke out 
from the best of motives in your interest as much 
as Marie’s. If I have failed, I am sorry. ” 


272 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

He turned on his heel and walked away. 
Samantha watched his retreating figure till it 
was out of sight. 

How blind men are ! ” she murmured. 

She sighed, and closed her eyes with a slight 
shiver. 


CHAPTER IX. 


FORTITER IN RE. 

Jack had still another card in his hand, and in 
his present mood was eager to play it. He had 
tried the suaviter in modo with Samantha and 
failed. There remained the fortiter in re with 
Alick. 

He found that gentleman lounging upon the 
terrace — a cigarette between his lips. His mother 
had just left him. It has been observed that she 
was a woman whose Sunday principles clashed 
witli her week-day common sense ; but she was a 
fond mother, and the thought of any protracted 
quarrel with her Benjamin was unendurable. 
P^ully alive to his interests, she had watched every 
move and drawn her own clear-sighted conclu- 
sions. In her oppinion he was playing a danger- 
ous game — grasping a shadow in lieu of the sub- 
stance. 

“ How do you know that Samantha will be 
dowered at all ? ” 

“ Of course she will be dowered,” replied Alick, 
angrily. 

“I don’t know, Alick. American fathers are 
generous enough when it comes to buying a title ; 

18 273 


274 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 

but, after all, you are no great match for the girl. 
With her rank and beauty she might look much 
higher. Very possibly the old man will tell you 
to go about your business. He doesn’t like you.” 

“ No, confound him ! — he doesn’t.” 

“I think,” pursued Mrs Carrick-Fergus, “that 
in the event of your marrying Marie, he will make 
good her fortune. Failing that, she has something 
of her own. Whereas Samantha is entirely de- 
pendent on the Earl.” 

With this parting shot she left him. Super- 
fluity of speech was not her weakness. She 
knew the value of a few words, and she knew — 
to a hair — the character of her son. Neverthe- 
less she overlooked one important factor in the 
case. Alick had fallen in love with Samantha. 
The biter in his turn was bit. It is unnecessary 
to add that he was not capable of any exalted 
passion ; but his vanity had been piqued, and his 
senses enthralled, by the fascinations of this semi- 
civilized nymph. Her great lambent eyes exer- 
cised a peculiar dominant influence over him. 
He was alternately attracted and repelled by her 
complex personality. She stimulated his Hn-de- 
siccle craving for excitement, and being a spoilt 
child, he determined to satisfy it, regardless of 
consequences. 

“ Look here, Alick,” began Jack, plunging at 
once in mediae res. “ Why are you playing fast 
and loose with Marie?” 


FORITVER IN RE. 


275 


Alick removed his cigarette, and lazily flicked 
off the ash before replying. 

‘‘What business is that of yours? Suppose 
you paddle your own canoe, my good friend, and 
leave me to paddle mine.” 

“ You are not behaving like a gentleman.” 

Alick blew several rings of smoke into the air. 

“ What is your definition of a gentleman ? 
Something ridiculously quixotic, I presume.” 

“ No gentleman,” cried Jack, hotly, “ would 
tamper with the feelings of the woman he had 
promised to marry.” 

“ Marie has authorized you to speak to me, eh? ” 

“ I speak on my own account as her nearest 
male relative. I demand an explanation.” 

“ Do you ? And suppose I refuse to give one.” 

“ Then,” said Jack, with his teeth set, “ I shall 
know what to do.” 

“ You will make a scene?” 

“ Very probably.” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, my friend. If you have 
made up your mind to a row, so be it. I need not 
remind a gentleman of your perspicacity that la 
nuit forte conseil. If you will think the matter 
over quietly, you will see that by interfering in a 
little matter of this kind, which, by the way, in no 
way concerns you, you will compromise Marie and 
make yourself ridiculous. Everybody knows 
of your past infatuation for her, and everybody 
will naturally say that you brought about a rup- 


276 THE K03IANCE OF JUDGE K ETC HUM. 

ture on purpose to further your own particular 
ends.” 

“ You are a damned scoundrel.” 

Alick eyed his rival’s frowning brows a trifle 
nervously. 

‘‘ If you expect me to try and knock you down, 
you will be disappointed, Jack. In a personal en- 
counter with you, I should stand no chance. To 
blackguard a man much weaker than yourself is 
not a very chivalrous proceeding.” 

At this juncture a servant approached and ad- 
dressed Jack. 

“ Mr. Britton is here, sir.” 

Tantallon turned to Alick. 

“We will talk of this again,” he said curtly. 

Carrick-Fergus shrugged his shoulders and 
walked off. 

“I wonder,” he thought, “if that fool Jack 
would have thrashed me. He can do it of course, 
and he looked just now like a perfect devil. There 
was blood in his eye. It is lucky for me that 
Thomas turned up when he did. I must bring 
this thing to a focus.” 

As he sauntered aimlessly along he met Saman- 
tha returning from the rose-garden. His pulses 
quickened at the sight of her charming face. 

“ I want to speak to you,” he said, hurriedly, 
glancing furtively round. 

Samantha noted his uneasiness, and smiled. 

“ What do you want to say?” she asked, softly. 


FOBTITER JE EE. 


277 


‘‘Surely you cau guess,” he replied, ardently. 

“We cannot talk here,” she faltered. 

“No. . . ” 

“ Meet me in the hall in half an hour. Leave 
me now: somebody may be looking.” 

They separated and Samantha went straight to 
Marie’s room. 

“ Can I come in ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes,” said Marie, coldly, “ sit down.” 

Samantha nervously seated herself. 

“You are angry with me, Marie?” 

“ You have given me just cause.” 

Samantha walked across the room and put her 
hand on her cousin’s shoulder. 

“ Dear Marie, do you love Alick very much ? ” 

Marie, astonished at the question, turned and 
looked Samantha full in the face. Gazing into 
her eyes brimming over with love and sympathy 
she diiiily realized that her suspicions had been ill- 
founded. Were these the words, the manner, of 
a coquette lost to all sense of decency? A thou- 
sand times. . No. 

“ There is some mystery here,” she replied, with 
a sigh. “ Why do you ask such a strange ques- 
tion, Samantha, and look at me as if you. . 

“As if I loved you, Marie. I do love you. You 
have had hard and bitter thoughts of me. It has 
cut me to the heart to see your cold glances, to 
hear your hard chilling words. But tell me, 
Marie, — and believe that I have reason for asking 


278 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


you, — do you love Alick as you thought 

you did ? Is he veiy dear to you : as dear as he 
ought to be ? ” 

Marie made no reply. 

“ If you have a doubt in your mind ; if you 
think for a moment that he is unworthy of you 
. . . say so.” 

“Why do you ask such a question*?” she re- 
peated, dully. 

“ Because it is so hard for me to say what I 
have to say, Marie. It would make my task 
so much easier if you could tell me that you see 
him at last as he really is ; not as you pictured 
him when you promised to be his wife.” 

“ What is your opinion of him ? ” asked Marie, 
in the same tone. 

“ He is not fit to black your boots,” cried 
Samantha. “ He is mean, selfish, worldly, vain 
and a . . . . fraud.” 

“ How dare you say so? How dare you say 
so?” 

“ I dare to tell the truth,” said Samantha, 
quietly. “ In less than half an hour your promised 
husband will ask me to be his wife.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

“ It is as I say.” 

Standing there with the light falling full upon her 
fair young face — the living, breathing impersona- 
tion of Truth — how could Marie doubt her. With 
a strangled sob she sank into a chair, and burst 


FORTITEB IN BE. 


279 


into tears. Her idol was irretrievably shat- 
tered. Samantha, the iconoclast, soothed her 
with tender words until her passion had exhausted 
itself : then, in a few simple phrases she told her 
story. 

“I soon found out that Alick cared nothing for 
you. He was after your money — the wretch. 
When he knew that that was gone, he began to 
make love to me. I made up my mind to tell you 
at once, but on second thoughts I waited. I 
wanted a tangible proof of his perfidy. Some- 
thing that would satisfy you. So I encouraged 
him. It was hateful work, dear, but I persevered 
for your sake and . . . Jack’s.” 

“ Why for Jack’s sake ? ” 

A burning blush overspread Samantha’s face. 

“ He loves you, Marie. You know how gener- 
ous, how brave and kind he is. I have often won- 
dered how you, knowing him so well, could send 
him away — as you did.” 

Marie began to pace feverishly up and down the 
room. 

“ He still loves you,” pursued Samantha, “and 
I, seeing the unworthiness of Alick, thought that 
you might come together in time.” 

“ But you love him yourself, Samantha.” 

“ No — not in that way, Marie. As a friend, as 
a dear brother, but I could not become his wife.” 

Marie was not so easily misled. 

“ You are a noble woman,” she cried. ** I have 


280 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

cruelly misjudged you. Can you forgive me, 
Samantha ? ” 

They embraced tenderly. 

“ And now,” said Marie, “ T will tell you what 
I have never dared admit even to myself. My 
love for Alick, such as it was, has gone forever.” 

“I don’t think you really loved him. How 
could you.” 

“I loved him, Samantha, as a young girl loves 
the man whom she has invested with every god- 
like quality. Long ago I found out my mistake, 
but I fought against my own convictions and went 
on living in my fool’s paradise. Thanks to you I 
am free, and — ” she whispered — “ I am glad, 
glad.” 

Samantha drew a long breath of relief. 

“ I am glad too, Marie.” 

“ You see, my dear, I loved an image, a phan- 
tom, a shadow. He has, as you know, a pleasing 
figure, a charming voice, a handsome head, a 
knack of saying graceful things ; but these do not 
make a man. Something more is required. I al- 
ways told myself tliat when I loved, I must also 
respect. Therefore when I ceased to respect, I 
really ceased to love.” 

“You have found him out in time, Marie ! ” 

“ Yes — I have found him out in time ! ” How 
can I thank you ? 

“ I am afraid you thought hardly of me, Marie. 
That was to be expected.” 


FOB TITER IN RE. 


281 


“ I thought you were horrid. I looked at 3^our 
face, Samantha, and wondered how ^mu could be 
so fair and yet so false. It was a brave thing to 
do.” 

“ My father gave me a good scolding to-day. 
He will laugh when I tell him the truth. I might 
have let him into the secret, but I feared he might 
give it away.” 

‘‘Some women,” mused Marie, “ love a man for 
himself : no matter what he is — high or low — 
good or bad, they still love him. But with me it 
was different; I loved the man of my fancies.” 

Samantha laughed. 

“ Wh}^ do you laugh ? ” asked Marie. 

“ Because, Marie, you have never loved at all. 
You do not know what true love is. Some day, 
perhaps, it will come to you and then you will ap- 
preciate the difference. As you say, you loved 
^n image — a creature of your fancy. When you 
truly love, Marie, your heart will go out instantly 
to the man as he is. You will love him passion- 
ately for himself : even his faults will find favor 
in your eyes. Oh, my dear, don’t deceive your- 
self, you have never loved.” 

“ Ah ...” sighed Marie. “ Perhaps . . . per- 
haps, Samantha, you are right.” 

“ Well I must go now and give Alick his an- 
swer. I don’t think that either of us will be 
bothered by him in the future. Come with me as 
far as the hall. He will be there and when he 


282 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCH UM. 

sees you, won’t he be rattled. I want to see (he 
fraud squirm ! ” 

So they went downstairs, arm in arm, and, as 
they passed through the inner hall heard the 
sound of voices. 

“ Who is here ? ” asked Marie of a servant. 

“ Mr. Britton, Miss.” 

“ You cannot see Alick now,” whispered Marie. 

“ What T have to say will improve by keeping,” 
replied Samantha, and then, her sense of humor 
being tickled, she laughed aloud — a clear rippling 
laugh that rang and echoed in the great hall be- 
yond. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE DAY OF RECKONING. 

Jack Tantallon welcomed his friend with 
beaming face. He was delighted to see him and 
said so in his own warm-hearted, impulsive fash- 
ion. 

“ What a feudal pile this is,” said Britton. 

Your visit to America, Jack, cost you dear in- 
deed. I must say you make ‘ honne mine a mau- 
vais jeu ” 

“ Do you know, old fellow, the loss of the feudal 
pile distresses me very little. I have been so 
bothered of late about other things that I have 
not given it a thought. You come at an oppor- 
tune moment. I want good advice badly ; and if 
anyone can unravel the tangled skein of my life 
you are the man.” 

“What is the trouble. Jack ? ” 

“ It is too long a yarn to tell now : in the even- 
ing when we are alone I will unbosom myself. 
Here comes the ‘ Jedge.’ ” 

Britton looked up and gave a palpable start. 
Then he stared fixedly at the Earl, extending his 
hand almost awkwardly. The late notary public 
of Hard Scratch chuckled audibly. 


283 


284 


THE BOMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Yer don’t know me. . . eh, Mr. Britton ? 
Wal I’m cuttin’ a wide swath now. Las’ time ye 
sot eyes on me I was sloshin’ around in my old 
duds, but Jack’s tailor an’ barber hev effected con- 
siderable of a change.” 

“ They have indeed,” said Britton. 

“ My goatee is gone, together with the overalls 
an’ sombrero, but Lord Tantallon is still Jedge 
Ketchum; an’ the sight of a face from Califoriiy 
is like a whiff o’ air from the Sierry Nevadas.” 

He rang the bell and called for Bourbon whisky. 

“ We’ll naterally take a little sour together fer 
auld lang syne.” 

Britton responded absently to these hospitable 
advances. He seemed to Jack ill at ease ; with 
the perplexed air of a man who is trying to recall 
some incident of the past and fails. The brilliant 
cosmopolite faltered like a schoolboy, and vaguely 
asked the crudest questions. The Earl, however, 
unconscious of his embarrassment, was in the 
highest spirits. 

“ Yes, sir,” he was saying, ‘‘ I felt kinder strange 
an’ funny jest at first ; but a man who has slep’ 
on bare flints takes mighty easy to a spring mat- 
tress. It’s pleasant ter be a live lord, with fine 
clothes and a plenty ter eat an’ drink, but the 
posish has its drawbacks.” 

“ Yes,” said Britton — the same puzzled look in 
his eyes. 

“ Yer see I hev ter be on deck all the time. 


THE DAY OF BECKONING. 


285 


When I sized up the butler here, Mister Puttick, 
an’ them there tall footmen I knew thet Cephas 
would hev ter rise ekall ter the emergency. I had 
ter look like a lord, an’ talk like a lord, an’ I tell 
yer, Britton, it’s tougher than hell. It’s like bein’ 
a perpetual orator at a Fourth o’ July celebra- 
tion ! ” 

Jack laughed. 

“ Don’t try and paint the lily, Judge. Your 
personality is quite sufficient unto itself.” 

The Earl waved a large hand in acknowledge- 
ment of this compliment. 

“ Yer will hev yer joke. Jack. But seriously, 
Mr. Britton, this yere splendor makes me oneasy. 
I’m a superstitious cuss, an’ I mistrust prosperity 
worse than an Apache Indian. I do fer a fact. I’m 
so high up now that I’m plum scared.” 

As he was speaking Carrick-Fergus came in and 
was introduced to Britton. They were all talking 
together when a sweet peal of laughter rippled 
through the half-opened door. It floated across 
Britton's brain like a long-forgotten strain of 
music. With a muttered exclamation he sprang 
to his feet. 

“ What is that,” he cried nervously. The door 
opened and the two girls appeared. The Earl in- 
dicated Samantha with his index finger. 

“ Thet,” he said proudly, “ is my darter, Saman- 
thy.” 

Britton staggered forward. 


286 


THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 


“ Merciful Heaven — ” he cried. “ Your daugh- 
ter. Your daughter ! ! ” 

He turned and looked fiercely at the Earl. 

“ Ah. . .” he shouted. “ I know you now. 
You are the man who robbed me of my wife — my 
bride. Demon — Devil — at last we meet.” 

Samantha hurried across the room and took her 
father’s hand. 

“ Father,” she implored. “ What is it — Speak.” 

“ Yes,” thundered Britton. “ Speak, you scoun- 
drel, speak. Where is my wife : the wife whose 
breathing image stands beside you — and calls you 
father ? ” 

“She is dead,” replied the Earl in a hoarse 
voice, “ dead ! ” 

“ Is this her daughter ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Britton devoured her slender person with his 
gleaming eyes. “ And you, . . .” he stammered. 

“ I am not her father,” said the Earl, distinctly. 
Samantha held up a hand as if praying him to be 
silent. 

“No,” he repeated, dully. “I am not her 
father. She is your child I swear it.” 

There was an instant of perfect silence. Again 
the words rang out — solemnly and slowly. 

“ I swear it.” 

Then a curious choking sound issued from be- 
tween liis parched lips. A horrible purple flush 
overspread his countenance. He clutched con- 


THE DAY OF BECKONING. 


287 


vulsively at the empty air with twisting writhing 
lingers ;• staggered forward a couple of yards and 
fell crashing to the floor. 

* * * * ' * 

“ Is there any hope ? ” said Jack the next day. 

The great physician who had been summoned 
from Edinburgh, shook his head. 

“Will he recover consciousness, Sir David?” 

“ It is impossible to say. At the very last, 
there may be a lucid interval. You can hope for 
nothing more.” 

After he had gone, Tantallon returned to the 
sick room. Upon the bed, propped up with pil- 
lows, lay the dying man — breathing stertorously. 
At his side knelt Samantha, her eyes heavy with 
unshed tears ; her features deadly pale but com- 
posed. Jack approached and touched her shoul- 
der. 

“ Poor little woman,” he whispered. 

Then he joined the other watchers and waited. 
The weary minutes dragged out their tedious 
length, and resolved themselves into hours, but 
the Earl made no sign. Jack gazed out of the 
open window and sighed. The pearly cloud- 
flecked skies, the imperial splendor of the heather, 
the varying play of light and shade on mountain, 
forest and stream, the ozone from the tossing At- 
lantic, the pungent balsamic odor of the soughing 
pines appealed irresistibly to the strong man as he 


288 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE K ETC HUM. 

sat there in his youth and vigor, waiting for the 
inevitable end. Mother Earth had never appeared 
to him so solemnly beautiful. Contrasting its si- 
lent grandeur with the turbulent passions of hu- 
manity, he prayed that he might so live that 
when he should come to die, his last hours 
should be calm and peaceful, free from discord- 
ant strife ; in harmony with God and man. He 
was aroused from his revery by the sound of his 
own name. 

“Jack.” 

He hastened to the bedside. In the eyes of his 
old friend was the light of reason. He bent down 
and tried to catch the trembling, incoherent 
words. 

“ Britton,” murmured the Earl. “ Britton.” 

“ I will fetch him,” he answered. 

When Britton entered the room a few minutes 
later, Tantallon had regained a little of his failing 
strength. 

“ Samanthy,” he whispered. 

“ Yes — father. I am here.” 

“ I’m dyin’ child, easier than I expected, fer I’m 
leavin’ yer with a squar man. Britton she is yer 
own child, yer own flesh an’ blood. I’m speakin’ 
God’s truth.” 

“ I believe you,” said Britton. 

“ I did yer a terrible wrong, but I’ve paid fer it. 
I allowed ter Jack thet the day of reckonin’ would 
come — It has.” 


THE DAY OF RECKONING. 


289 


“ If my< forgiveness avails anything, it is yonrs,” 
said Britton, strangely moved. 

“ Yer makin’ it very easy for me ter die. Saman- 
thy . . .” 

She bent down and kissed him, the tears drop- 
ping upon his upturned face. 

“ Kin yer forgive me, child, fer the wrong I did 
yer mother ? ” 

“ Forgive you,” she cried, passionately. “ Yes 
— a thousand times. You have been father, 
mother, everything to me. Ah . . . what shall I 
do when you are gone.” 

He whispered something in her ear. 

“ No, no,” she answered. “ I was only pretend- 
ing.” She bent over him, and murmured a few 
words of explanation. 

“ I knew it. I knew my girl was true an' 
straight. Yer kin take her without fear, Britton. 
She’ll be a credit to yer name.” 

He lay back exhausted for some time. Then 
he spoke of his boys. 

“They’re well provided for,” he said, faintly. 
“The poor little critters was’nt born in lawful 
wedlock. Jack, so yer own will come back to yer. 
Yer'll watch out fer ’em, my lad.’’ 

“ I will, Judge. You can trust them to me” 

The old man closed his eyes and seemed to 
sleep. The doctor, who was in attendance, raised 
his nerveless hands and felt softly for the flicker- 
ing pulse. 


19 


290 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

“ He sleeps,” said Samantha. 

The doctor let fall the hand. As he did so he 
glanced at Tantallon and bowed his head. There 
was no mistaking the action. Jack led Samantha 
gently to the window. 

* 5j« ,|< 5l< ^ 5i< 

With the death of Lord Tantallon ends the 
romance of tTudge Ketchum. Marie, as soon as 
she realized her lover’s perfidy, summarily dis- 
missed him. 

“ My dear Alick,” she wrote, “ these lines will 
release you from your engagement to me. It was 
hastily entered into by a foolish girl : it is broken 
b}^ a woman who knows her own mind. You will 
understand that personally I bear you no ill will, 
but under the circumstances you had better leave 
Tantallon at once.” 

Alick, as a philosopher, read and digested the 
above with satisfaction. Being also a dutiful son, he 
took it straight to his mother, who confessed with 
a sigh, that after all, things had arranged them- 
selves for the best. 

“ I shall marry Samantha,” said Alick. 

I can see the finger of Providence in all this,” 
said Mrs. Carrick-Fergus piously. 

‘‘ The luck has turned,” replied her son, “ and, 
by Jove it’s time it did.” 

‘•Mr. Britton is very wealthy, Alick?” 

•‘ Five or six millions sterling.” 


THE DAY OF RECKONING. 


291 


They regarded each other unctuously — meta- 
phorically licking their chops — five millions ! ! 

‘‘ It is a large sum of money, Alick ” 

‘‘ Much may be done with it, mater.” In his 
mind's eye was a pleasant vista. Steam yachts — 
castles — a hotel in Paris — princely entertainments 
everywhere. He laughed discreetly, as became a 
prospective millionaire, and kissed his mother. 

“ Yes,” she replied, dreamily, “ you will go into 
Parliament and make a name. In time you will 
be raised to the peerage. To a man of large 
means, all avenues are open.” 

“ I shall make the most of my opportunities,” 
said Alick. “ As for Marie — she will marry Jack. 
They are suited to each other. I really feel 
quite kindl}^ disposed towards her.” 

“ When will you speak to Samantha ? ” 

“ After the funeral. I shall stay here till that 
is over, and before I leave I shall come to an un- 
derstanding with my little girl. At present there 
is nothing to be said or done. I must respect her 
grief and wait.” 

“ God bless you,” said his mother, presently. 

So Alick lived in his fool’s paradise for three 
days, and then the awakening came. It was not 
pleasant. 

He sought and found Samantha in the library. 
Dressed in deep mourning, she was ostensibly 
reading: her thoughts in reality far away among 
the pines and redwoods of her early home. She 


292 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

looked up — the tears in her eyes — when Alick en- 
tered the room, and answered his expressions of 
sympathy with curt sadness. 

“ I feel,” said Alick, plunging boldly through 
the ice, “ that in your time of trouble my place 
is by your side.” 

“ Yes,” she replied, absently. 

I am free now,” he whispered, ‘ to tell you 
that I love you.” 

A blush rose to her cheeks, and Alick pro- 
ceeded. 

love you, Samantha, as I have never loved 
any woman before. I. . . .” 

“ You swore to Marie that you loved her,” she 
interrupted, gently. 

“ I was willing to marry her till I saw you. It 
would have been a mariage de convenanee^ such as 
are made every day.” 

“ You would have married her under false pre- 
tences.” 

“ On false pretences? ” 

Certainly — she loved you, and you led her to 
believe that her love was returned.” 

“ Perhaps,” he replied ; “ but there were family 
reasons for such a course that we need not enter 
into now. Samantha, my darling, tell me that 
you will be my wife.” 

He tried to encompass her slender waist with 
his arm, but she repulsed him firmly. 

“ Wait,” she said, simply, as she moved away, 


THE DAY OF RECKONING. 


293 


gazing at him steadfastly out of her sombre eyes. 
“ Would you marry me if I were penniless ? ” 

The question took him by surprise. For a brief 
second he hesitated. 

“ Of course I would,” he stammered. 

‘‘ If I told you,” she pursued, in grave earnest 
accents, “ that my father was hopelessly involved 
— substantially ruined. What would you say? ” 
The lovelight died out of his face. 

“ What nonsense you talk,” he cried, roughly. 
“ Your father is a millionaire — a billionaire ! ” 

“ So the world thinks,” said Samantha, sadly, a 
subtle tremor in her voice, “ but suppose it were 
otherwise, suppose that he were irretrievably 
ruined .... that his honor even were at stake. 
Would you marry me then?” 

The veiled sadness of her words, the dejected 
droop of her head, the despondent pose of her 
figure completely misled him. 

“ My God,” he cried, blankly. “Was there ever 
such luck as mine! ” 

A cold smile flitted across the lips of Samantha. 
Her whole face perceptibly hardened. An omin- 
ous frown gathered on her forehead. 

“I am afraid,” she said, “that you have made a 
great mistake — a terrible mistake. Just now I 
felt really sorry for you. I regretted the part I 
had played. I blushed for myself. But I have 
judged you correctly: I am justified in what I 
have done. Oh you fraud you monu- 


294 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

mental fraud, wliat could Marie have seen in 
you ? ” 

Alick stared at her in amazed silence. 

“So you thought that I was gone on you,’’ 
she continued, lapsing unconsciously into the 
familar slang of the mining camp, “you thought 
you had a sure thing. . . eh ? That you had 
fooled the little Yank! Well, my friend, I will 
tell you right here that for one short hour I be- 
lieved you to be an honorable man — for one short 
hour, no more. You didn’t pan out. No. . .no. 
Why I dropped on to your game right away ! 
Your treatment of Marie opened my eyes, and 
why it didn’t open hers, is more than I can under- 
stand. A California girl would have sent you to 
Topliet before you could wink ; but Marie is 
proud as Lucifer and like that Spartan boy who 
stole the fox. She knew you were tearing her 
heart out, but she held you all the tighter. I 
watched her and hoped and prayed that she would 
get mad, but she didn’t. So then I took the mat- 
ter in hand myself, and I guess I’ve fixed you up 
in pretty good shape. You were counting on my 
millions ! Well, none of my millions will come 
your way — not much ! I would sooner throw 
them and myself into the sea. You have got 
badly left, Mr. Smarty. You are ‘in the soup,’ as 
we say, in the States — head over heels. You talk 
glibly of being in love. Such men as you are not 
capable of true love. You know how to flirt. . . 


THE DAY OF RECKONING. 


295 


ah ! yes, and you brag of your conquests in the 
smoking-room, flipping away women’s reputations 
as you flip the ashes from your cigar; but of true 
honest unselfish love, such love as Jack Tantallon 
feels for Marie, you know nothing. And now 
.... go. 

White with rage and speechless with humiliation 
he turned and left the room. 

Through the influence of his brother, he sought 
and obtained a staff appointment in the Colonies. 
Unfortunately the story of his wooing and undo- 
ing followed him to Australia. The Melbourne 
girls flirt with him of course, but privatel3S they 
shake their pretty heads and purse their pretty 
mouths. From a matrimonial point of view they 
have no use for him. His mother lives alone in 
her town house. She looks old and — bad sign^ — 
makes no effort to hide the ravages of time and 
sorrow. She tells her friends that her mind is no 
longer set on earthlj?- happiness. Poor woman, 
she has drunk her cup of bitterness to the dregs. 
Of such is the kingdom of this world. 

Henry Britton has regained his youth. He has 
found in Samantha what he loved and lost in her 
mother. His frozen heart has thawed out. He 
and his daughter will make their permanent home 
in the Golden State, but I don’t think they will 
forget their friends in England. .Samantha says 
that her father is nearer and dearer to her than 
any husband could possibly be, and Britton does 


296 THE ROMANCE OF JUDGE KETCHUM. 

not gainsay her; but he knows that someday, 
sooner or later, Love will reassert his dominion. 
He is a philosopher and he has great confidence in 
his daughter. When she chooses her mate, she 
will choose wisely. Of that he is assured. 

The Earl of Tantallon is still unmarried ; but 
he was seen the other day at Mr. Sapphire’s in 
Bond Street, interviewing that eminent lapidary in 
regard to the re-setting of Tantallon diamonds. 
Lady Biddulph says that Marie Tantallon is the 
happiest girl in the United Kingdom. 


THE END. 


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and rolled in the sand when her husband Metaah began to kick and beat her. 

Mrs. Higginson has written to entertain, and the unusual characters and scenes of 
her story will accomplish that object. The book makes a new ripple upon the sea 
of literature. ’ — Jeannette Gilder in The Chicago Tribune. 


Out of Reach. 

By Esme Stuart. i2mo, cloth, illuminated cover. Four 
illustrations. 

“ A perfectly beautiful story for older ^irls, by Esm6 Stuart, well remembered 
through ‘A Little Brown Girl’ and ‘ Mimi.’ . . . The book is prettily bound 
and illustrated.” — Baltimore American. 

“ A romantic tale which touches a bit the atmosphere of the weird, but which is in 
itself not the least so, being brisk and vigorous throughout. . . . The idea of 

the story is excellent and it is strongly handled. . . . Parts of it are very sweet, 
all interesting, much cleverly placed. The diction is always clear and forceful anq 
the story, with all its romantic resources, developed amid a specially fruitful 
atmosphere, is one that will be widely enjoyed.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ ‘ Out of Reach,’ by Estr.e Stuart, is for a young girl what a novel by Mr. Grant 
Allen might be for her mother. . . . The book is entertaining and rather unus- 

ual in character.” — Literary World. 


Black, White, and Gray. 

By Amy Walton. With 4 illustrations. Illuminated 
cover. i2mo, cloth. 

A story of three homes. An excellent story for children. 

“ It is to be recommended heartily to all who want something innocent and pleas, 
ing to add to the children’s home library .” — Boston Beacon. 

“ An amusing tale of three kittens and their homes by Amy Walton. It is a sensi- 
ble, jolly book for little boys and girls. . . . It is not often that one comes 

across such a natural, sensible story so pleasantly told .” — Literary World. 

‘'It contains a wealth of sympathetic touches that will make each child who reads 
it more reflective and thoughtful in her intercourse with other boys and girls.” 

—Boston Herald. 


Memoirs of Anne C. L. Botta. 

Written by her friends. With selections from her corres- 
pondence and from her writings in prose and poetry. 
Edited by Professor Vincenzo Botta. A limited edition, 
printed on Holland paper, with gilt top and untrimmed 
edges. Engraved portrait of Mrs. Botta. Cloth, 8vo, 
475 pages, $3.50. 

■“An extraordinary tribute and one that could not have been called forth by any 
■ordinary character. Mr. James Anthony Froude, Mr. Parke Godwin, Mrs. Julia 
Ward Howe, Mr. E. C. Stedman, Mr. Charles Dudley Warner, Miss Kate. Field, 
Miss Kate Sanborn, Mr. John Bigelow, Miss Edith M. Thomas, Mr. Richard 
Watson Gilder, Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, Mr. Moncure D. Conway, Mr. Justin 
McCarthy, and many more, have contributed these memoirs.” — The New York Sun. 
“ The volume recently edited by Professor Botta, in memory of his wife, . . . 

will have an ennobling and uplifting effect upon all who read it, by reason of the 
picture it presents of an ideally beautiful life. We commend this symposium to 
the consideration of those ladies who are ambitious to emulate the fame of those 
of their sex whose names have become historical as the creators of salons.” 

— The Home Journal. 

“ There is a touching charm about many of these memoirs ; they glow with the 
splendor of lofty and real attachment, and they pulsate with generous and respon- 
sive life as do hearts. . . . For nearly two generations Mrs. Botta was a con- 

spicuous force and figure in the social and intellectual life of this city. When she 
died Julia Ward Howe remarked, ‘All her friends remain her debtors.’ . . . 

Andrew D. White quotes Horace Greeley, who said : ‘Anne Lynch is the best 
woman that God ever made.’ . . . Froude declares that while he lives he cau 
never cease to remember her. . . . Charles A. Peabody will remember her ‘ as 

a benefactor so long as memory shall continue to serve me.’ ” — New York Times. 

“ The volume of memoirs which her husband has edited is a lasting and impres- 
sive monument to her memory, builded by many hands and adorned with the affec- 
tionate and loving utterances of scores of distinguished persons who regret her 
loss. . . . The memoirs are most handsomely printed on heavy rough-edged 

paper, and are embellished with a portrait of Mrs. Botta in ‘ the flower of her old 
age.’ ” — New York Mail and Express. 

“ Mrs. Botta was a woman of acute intellectual insight and a most charming char- 
acter. Her presence acted as a powerful stimulus in developing the social talents 
of others, and her ‘evenings’ were a recognized institution in New York, where 
the best writers, poets, and artists of the time attended these popular receptions. 
It was at one of these that Poe gave the first reading of the ‘ Raven.’ Emerson, 
Bryant, Irving, Bancroft, Bayard Taylor, Dr. Bellows, the Carey sisters, Horace 
Greeley, H. W. Beecher, Edwin Booth, Froude, Proctor, Charles Kingsley, 
Matthew Arnold, Lord Houghton, and other prominent people attended Mrs. 
Botta’s receptions, and happy recollections of these social gatherings animate the 
portion of this memorial contributed by her friends. ... A portrait of Mrs. 
Botta taken late in life explains what Edmund Clarence Stedman said of her; 

‘ Her grace, her personal charm, her gift of perpetual youth, were those of an ideal 
womanhood.’ It is a stimulating book.” — Public Ledger, Philadelphia. 

“ This book, commemorating a good, wise, and lovable woman, is hardly a biog- 
raphy, though the course of a beneficent life may be traced in its pages. . . . 
It is an enviable testimony to the beauty of Mrs. Botta’s character and the worth of 
her brains that these chapters set forth. . . . What she seemed to one among 

the many foreigners of distinction, who have tested her hospitality in later years, 
is set forth in this passage from a letter written by Mr. Froude: ‘ I have known 
many interesting women in my life, but about her there was a peculiar grace which 
I have never seen in any other person. She had brilliant gifts, yet she never 
seemed to know that she had any gifts at all. 

“ I was introduced into Mrs. Botta’s salon forty-four years ago, either by Dr. Rufus 
Wilmot Griswold or by Mr. Bayard Taylor. Mrs. Botta, who was then Miss Anne 
Charlotte Lynch, was known to me before the date I have specified through her 
poems in Graham’s Magazine and other periodicals. . . . To meet this accom- 

plished gentlewoman was a distinction, since in meeting her one met her friends, 
the least of whom was worth knowing. . . .” 

— Richard Henry Stoddard in The Independent. 


The Gist of Whist. 

By Charles E. Coffin. Pocket i2mo, red edges, cloth, 
75 cents; flexible leather, red edges, $i.oo. 

“ A valuable addition to whist literature, and must be greatly appreciated by all 
lovers of the intellectual game. . . . The author has examined all the standard 

authorities, and presented the gist of the whole subject in the least possible com- 
pass, and in the most interesting and complete and comprehensive form.” 

— Evening Post, Burlington, Iowa. 

“ A clever and thoroughly practical manual.” — Philadelphia Ledger. 

“A book to be bought, read, and cherished forever.” — Providence Sunday Journal. 

Presents the chief features of the game in a strong and simple way.” 

— Boston Advertiser. 

“ Simple and direct in statement. The laws and leads are made clear in condensed 
and practical form.” — Boston Times. 

” ‘ The Gist of Whist ’ meets a long-felt requirement. ... In its one hundred 
pages are contained concise, readable, and comprehensive instructions of the 
game, under such practical heads as Fundamental Principles, Americati Leads, 
Conventional Plays, and Practical Precepts. . . . The whole is in just the shape 

for informative reading or quick reference. The binding, too, is daintj’ indeed 
and of itself sufficient to make one desire its possession.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ A perfect hand manual of this king of card games ; contains the essence of all the 
best guide books on the subject, including the improved method of American leads 
and a complete glossary of the common and technical terms, to which is added 
‘ The Laws of Whist ’ as revised at the Third American Whist Congress. 

‘ Know the leads and when to make them. 

Know the tricks and when to take them. 

Know the rules and when to break them. 

Know the laws and ne’er forsake them.’ 

” Beginners and moderate players at whist need to have the information of the 
game presented to them in an entertaining manner in order to awaken interest and 
encourage them to oroceed. 

“ I believe ‘ The Gist of Whist ’ will possess this characteristic in a marked degree, 
judging from the advance sheets which I have seen. It is bright in style, and 
presents the chief features of the game in a strong, simple way. 

“ All maxims and tables of leads follow the latest and best authorities, so that the 
work is entirely reliable ; and it is broad and comprehensive enough to graduate 
good players.” — Cassius M. Paine, Editor of Whist. 


Barrack-room Ballads and Other Verses. 

By Rudyard Kipling, author of “ Mine Own People,” 
“Soldiers Three,” etc. i2mo, cloth, $i.oo; paper, 50 
cents. 

“ These poems are full of dramatic vigor, crisp, terse, witty, and entertaining. 
Those entitled ‘The Betrothed,’ ‘You May Choose Between Me and Your Cigar ’ 
remind one of Bret Harte or Thackeray, and are alone worth the price of the book.” 


The Woman of the Iron Bracelets. 

By Frank Barrett, author of “ Kitty’s Father,” “Olga’s 
Crime,” etc. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. Paper, 50c. 

“ In every way an excellent story. A well-balanced, charming work of fiction, 
^lean and bright .” — Boston Times. 


Cosmopolis. 


By Paul Bourget. Authorized edition; handsomely 
illustrated by A. Casarin, a pupil of Meissonier. Large 
i2mo, cloth, gilt, $1.50. Paper {not illustrated), 50 cents. 

“ A work of extraordinary power and deep interest.” — Philadelphia Bulletin. 
“Bourget has given us a series of portraits which are elaborated and re- 
fined. . . . ‘ Cosmopolis ’ is an admirable piece of portraiture in all ways.” 

— New York Tribmie. 


The Curb of Honor. 

By M. Betham-Edwards, author of “The Romance of 
a French Parsonage.” i2mo, cloth, $1.00. Paper, 50c. 

A romantic story of the Pyrenees, that peculiar French atmosphere with which 
that talented author alone of English writers can endow a picture of French life. 

“ With many and effective descriptions of scenery in the Pyrenees this story of the 
French and Spanish border line runs along very pleasantly.” — The Independent. 

“ Grandly clear-cut is this story, harmoniously true and deeply strong. A gem cut 
from Nature’s very heg,rt, rather than from her clothing.” — Boston Ideas. 

“This story is well told and is not commonplace.” — Telegram. 

“The author shows a man, yet one full of inspiration, genius, and wit; and his 
great love for the waif of the storm, Eldred Eden, is exquisitely portrayed. ‘ The 
Curb of Honor ’ will add to the author’s name and fame.” — Boston Times. 

“ Miss Betham-Edwards’s new book contains some excellent descriptions of Py- 
renean scenery and of life in one of the remote mountain valleys on the borderland 
between France and Spain. Miss Betham-Edwards has made French Protestant 
parsonages quite a specialty of her own, and turns them to very pleasant use.” 

— AthencBum. 

“ The pictures of French life and scenery are fine. They belong to a field in which 
the author excels.” — Daily News, Denver. 


Mrs. Clift-Crosby’s Niece. 

By Ella Childs Hurlbut. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. Paper, 25c. 

This is an exceedingly piquant society novel. It abounds in striking passages, 
and its easy, unbroken style makes its reflection of fashionable life singularly faith- 
ful and clear. It is rare, indeed, that fashionable New York finds so gifted an 
illustrator as Mrs. Hurlbut. 

“ It is a fascinating society novel of the pin de sieclc type. The stoiy is really brill- 
iant at times, with a finished, terse style that is singularly true, in detail, to the 
fashionable life that it describes.” — Boston Times. 

“ The book is a picture of New York life ; the story is well painted ; clearly, 
smoothly, cleverly.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ New York fashionable society is the subject in general and the career of Mrs. 
Clift-Crosby’s niece the theme in particular of the present issue. Skimming 
lightly over the surface of life with an occasional peep^ into its depths, it depicts 
various phases of ‘ swelldom,’ including a love affair with a French count and all 
the necessary adjuncts. This story will doubtless interest the summer reader.’ 

— Public Opinion. 

“ Mrs. Hurlbut has given us an interesting picture of contemporary fashionable 
New York Society and has told the story of the crossed love of a wayward but 
very attractive and very real girl. The conception and the style of the author are 
genuinely &rt\st\c. "—Rewiew of Reviews. 


The Celebrated “Pseudonym” Library. 

A daintily bound and printed long i6mo pocket edition of 
the best new fiction. Cloth bound, gilt top, 50 cents per 
volume. 

Every work in this world-renowned series is a literary gem, and the volumes 
themselves are specially adapted in size, appearance, and quality for boudoir or 
drawing-room use. 


Vol. I. MAKAR’S DREAM. 

This is the tale of the dream which poor MakSr dreamt on Christmas Eve — the very 
Maklr who is mentioned by the Russian proverb as the step-child of Fate. The 
story is in turn weird, uncanny, and entrancing, and it holds the reader with won- 
derful fascination. Once read it will never be forgotten. 


Vol. II. HERB OF LOVE. Translated from the 
Greek by Eliz. M. Edmonds. 

This is a fascinating story of Greek peasant life, introducing a couple of gypsy 
•characters and relieving them against the stolid and superstitious Greek peasantry 
with strong effect. 


Vol. III. HEAVY LADEN. Translated from the 
German by Helen A. Macdonell. 

“Use Frappen, above all things, paints life at first hand. She possesses the true 
artist’s eye ; and the Hamburg that could draw from Heine only the most cynical 
and scathing sarcasm has revealed to her a wealth of poetic material.” 


Vol. IV. THE SAGHALIEN CONVICTS AND 
OTHER STORIES. 

“These stories illustrate life in a quarter of the world with which the reading 
public is but little acquainted. The lover of fiction will find in these pages much 
to delight and instruct. The scenes and characters are all novel but described 
with a degree of art which invests them with something of the familiarity of that 
which has been seen before .” — Philadelphia Item. 


Vol. V. THE SCHOOL OF ART. By Isabel Snow. 

This story is told with wonderful verve, and yet, amid all its swing and rapidity 
•of rnovement we pause at times to brush away the ready tear. It is intensely true 
to life, and the atmosphere is nature’s own. 


Vol. VI. A BUNDLE OF LIFE. By John Oliver 
Hobbes (Mrs. Craigie), author of “ Sinner’s Comedy,” 
“Some Emotions and a Moral,” and “Study in Temp- 
tations.” 

No work of fiction in the English language contains more brilliant writing in the 
same space. 

The first edition was exhausted on the date of publication, and the second within 
SIX days. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE — Continued. 

To niy mind Mrs. Crai^ie (John Oliver Hobbes) is the cleverest of all the women 
who have sprung into fame within the last two or three years. . . If Sarah 
Grand had Mrs. Craigie’s condensation ‘The Heavenly Twins’ would be a much 
stronger book. . . . Mrs. Craigie is a cynic, and I have heard that her cynicism 
comes from her own experiences in life, which have not been of the happiest. 

■ 'u Craigie is especially clever at epigram ; her books are epigrammatic 
from the first to the last page, and in this form of literature she is much more strik- 
ing than Oscar Wilde. With Oscar Wilde it seems to be a cultivated cleverness • 
with ^'Irs. Craigie it is entirely spontaneous, and is her way of looking at things. 

. . . The book must be read, and it will be read, for it is one of the brightest 

that has been published in many a long day. ... I think that I have proved in 
the foregoing that ‘A Bundle of Life’ is well worth reading, and that Mrs. Craigie 
or John Oliver Hobbes if one prefers, is a woman of sparkling though sarcastic 
wit.”— Jeannette L. Gilder in the York World. 

” That brilliant woman who chooses to be known as ‘John Oliver Hobbes ’ is one of 
the wittiest of modern writers, and her latest tale will be keenly relished for its 
piquancy and its clever dramatizing of a little comedy of the heart.” 

— Boston Beacon. 

“ The book contains a wealth of expressive word-painting, and will be warmly 
welcorned as one of the gems of the Pseudonym Library, which is one of the choic- 
est series published. The Pseudonym Library represents convenient size, excep- 
tional good taste, and a nameless attraction which wins one the moment its cover 
strikes the view. The type is a delight to the eye, and the whole book holds a 
charm over the aesthetic sense.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ How often in our own experiences have we found it difficult to decide whether 
some important change in the tide of our affairs is brought about by ‘ a dispensation 
of Providence or the interference of Satan ! ’ And, in the society of to-day, are there 
not Lady Lurewells and Mrs. Portcullises who can ‘dress up a sin so religiously 
that the devil h.! “»self would hardly know it of his own making ? ’ ” 

— Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 

“ A well-written and interesting story.” — Christian at Work. 

“John Oliver Hobbes’ masterpiece is clearly ‘ A Bundle of Life.’ ” 

— Boston Daily Advertiser. 


Gossip of the Caribbees; 

Or, Sketches of Anglo-West Indian Life. By 
William R. H. Trowbridge, Jr. Illustrated. i2mo, 
illuminated cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50c. 

‘These sketches of Anglo-West Indian life have an unmistakable flavor of Mr. 
Kipling about them. . . . They are interesting bits of colony life, told for the 

most part in graphic, forceful style, with occasional touches of rather daring 
realism.” — Literary World. 

“ In a succession of slight sketches or short stories Mr. Trowbridge deals with the 
Windward group of the West Indian Islands in its social aspects. . . . ‘ Mrs. 

Clarendon’s Dance ’ is an excellent piece of social comedy, and there is a great 
deal of capital broad farce in the misfortunes that befall the ambitious hostess 
whose little dance proves a dismal failure. ‘The Old Portrait’ is a thrilling ro- 
mance of the last century, which nevertheless seems to bear internal evidence of 
keeping pretty close to actual facts. ‘ For the Sake of the Cross ” is a really power- 
ful tale of noble self-sacrifice.” — Saturday Review, London. 

“ The book opens out a new and unexplored region to the majority of American 
readers, and is intensely interesting both in style and subject matter.” 

— Evening Post, Chicago. 

“ The sketches are very interesting and give one a clear and comprehensiye idea of 
the topography, climate, manners, and custorns of Anglo-West Indian life 111 Barba- 
does and the adjacent colonies.” — Town Topics. 

“ These short stories contain a pleasing admixture of light satire and unaffected 
pathos.” — The Athenceum, London. 


Fragments in Baskets. 

By Mrs. W. BoYD Carpenter (Wife of the Bishop of 
Ripon). Beautifully illustrated. i2mo, cloth, elegantly 



Published. 


embossed, $i.oo. 


These fragments comprise a series of twelve exquisite apologues, attractive alike 
to youth and age. A daintily illustrated volume admirably adapted for presen- 
tation. 


Athletics as a Means of Physical 
Training. 


By Theo. C. Knauff. Richly illustrated. i2mo, 
cloth, $2.00. 


There are many text-books in every department of athletics from which one may 
learn rules, or how to become an expert by making a business of a pleasure. This 
book, however, covers the whole broad field of athletics, and with sufficient detail 
not only to determine the value of each pursuit as a means of physical culture, but 
to demonstrate what is excess and to ascertain what has been done, or what may 
still remain to be accomplished, by the average business man who cannot devote a 
lifetime to the cultivation of athletics, and who naturally desires every hour which 
he is able to devote to it should be one of continuous progress, and not of wasted, 
ill-regulated efforts, which are oft times disastrous to his physical well being. 

The peculiar needs and opportunities for women in the same relation receive 
attention. 

The work is treated very exhaustively, and in an interesting and attractive form. 
It has not been written from a medical point of view, but with the object of fur- 
nishing a popular work. The object has been to create a standard authority, and 
we think that the public will agree with us that it has been accomplished. 

The volume has a wealth of original illustrations, including many life studies of 
great value. Some of these will appeal very strongly to those who have been neg- 
lecting the care of their own bodies, with the result of impaired health and vitality, 
as well as lessened capacity to enjoy life. 


Americans in Europe. 

By One of Them. i2mo, cloth, $i.oo. Paper, 50c. 


This remarkable volume, which casts so strong and at times so fierce a light on 
American life abroad, and the evils to which it is constantly exposed, is, beyond 
all doubt, destined to make a very great stir, and especially among travelers and 
those who are already to some extent familiar with the conditions of existence in 
European capitals. 

The author, whose identity is only withheld temporarily, has had an unequaled 
opportunity of acquainting himself with his subject, and the result is a trenchant 
and powerful work without a single dull line within its covers. The book is abso- 
lutely indispensable to all contemplating a European residence for themselves or 
relatives. 

A work of remarkable power. The writer is absolutely fearless in his denuncia- 
tion of American practices abroad which he condemns. 

“ The author of ‘ Americans in Europe ’ is to be lauded for his patriotism.” 

— New York Times. 

” A book that is sure to have a sale and to be talked ohont."— New York Herald. 
“ The author has pungent chapters on the dangers to which American young men 
and girls are exposed in Pans when they go there to study art and music, and 
mothers are warned not to send their daughters to the American Sunday-school at 
the French capital, that institution being denounced as a hot-bed of flirtation.” 


— Boston Beacon. 


The Larger Life. 

By Henry A. Adams, M.A. (for some time rector of the 
Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Buffalo, and the Church of 
the Redeemer, New York). With a very fine portrait of 
the author. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, $i.oo. 

This is Father Adams’s reply to the storm of criticism which broke over him upon 
his becoming a Catholic. Dedicated “ To my Former Parishioners.” 

‘‘The personality behind these eight sermons is an intense one. The sermons 
themselves are stirring and impressive and calculated to do much good.” 

— Public Opinion. 

“ The almost electrical energy of his spoken addresses is in the type itself. The 
eight sermons on ‘ The Larger Life ’ are a marvel of condensation. The old 
Carlyleish way of putting truths appears everywhere.” — Buffalo News. 

‘‘ Clear, thoughtful, and stimulating.” — Congregalionalist. 

‘‘ Every line in the work is worthy of a careful perusal ; the sermons are models of 
pulpit eloquence.” — Evetiing Item, Philadelphia. 

‘‘ These sermons are strange discourses, not such as are commonly preached any- 
where; earnest and good, and well adapted to make an impression, but chiefly 
valuable for their heat and stimulation. The book contains a fine portrait of the 
author.” — Boston Hetald. 

‘‘ The force and sincerity of these sermons are two very decisive qualities.” 

— Boston Beacon. 

“These sermons trace out broad theories of Christianity and follow no stated 
creed, so that while the author has been impelled to change the form of his own 
belief the spirit of the essays rises above sectarian limits.” — Boston Times. 


A Chronicle of Small Beer. 

By John Reid. Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, $i.oo. Paper. 25c. 

A most delightful work treating of Scotch life and character, not to be surpassed 
by James Matthew Barrie in his ‘‘ Little Minister.” The description of “ The Fight 
in the Coup ” is finer than that of “ Tom Brown’s School-days.” 

“ The book is one that will delight the heart of a boy, but will be equally successful 
in finding older readers, for it has a flavor that carries one back instinctively to his 
age of pranks and air castles. Of the twenty sketches in the book not one is with- 
out interest. . . . The book is well gotten up, illustrated and handsomely 
bound.” — Lowell Daily Courier. 


Oriole’s Daughter. 

By Jessie Fothergill, author of “The First Violin,” etc. 
375 pages, i2mo, $1.25. 

Like “Cosmopolis” this most interesting book — the last written before her death 
by the gifted author of ‘‘ The First Violin ” — opens in the City of Rome, and as in 
the case of BourgH's chef d’ oeuvre it is the moral miasma of that tainted city 
which threatens to the point of destruction one or two very beautiful lives. 

The story is one of wild oats sown in 3'outh and reaped in middle life in bitter 
penitence of soul ; of an innocent and beautiful daughter sacrificed in marriage by 
an unnatural mother to a wealthy and repulsive roui ; of a human soul seared into 
indifference by the horrid contact, and of a great temptation — the natural outcome 
of the situation — escaped as by fire. 

The story is well and clearly told ; it is full of exquisite passages, is delicately 
written, and absolutely free from any suspicion of grossness. 


A SEVENTH CHILD 


BY 


JOHN STRANGE WINTER, 


Author of “ Booties’ Baby,” “ Soul of the Bishop,” Etc* 


i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. Paper binding, 50c. 


John Strange Winter’s novels always receive a 
hearty welcome wherever the English language is 
spoken. This new novel, entitled “A Seventh 
Child,” is a masterpiece and will add to the 
author’s brilliant reputation. The story is com- 
plicated and its interest intensified by the intro- 
duction of a heroine, who — as the Seventh Child 
— is endowed with the “uncanny” gift of second 
sight. The possessor of that weird quality is a 
source of vast apprehension to the characters in 
the book as well as to the readers. The book will 
stir the leaven of superstition in the breast of all 


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